The sandman's hour; stories for bedtime

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THE SANDMAN’S
HOUR

Books by

ABBIE PHILLIPS WALKER

TOLD BY THE SANDMAN. Illustrated

SANDMAN TALES. Illustrated

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR. Illustrated

HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK

Stories for Bed time

Harper <3 Brothers, Publisher^

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The Sandman's Hour

Copyright, 1917. by Harper & Brothers
Printed in the United States of America
Published June, 1917

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JUN 1 1 1917

©CI.A467388

CONTENTS

PAGE

Where the Sparks Go 3

The Good Sea Monster 7

Mother Turkey and Her Chicks 11

The Fairies and the Dandelion 16

Mr. 'Possum 20

The Rooster That Crowed Too Soon 25

Tearful 29

Hilda’s Mermaid 34

The Mirror’s Dream 40

The Contest 45

The Pink and Blue Eggs 50

Why the Morning-glory Sleeps 55

Dorothy and the Portrait 59

Mistress Pussy’s Mistake 64

Kid 67

The Shoemaker Rat 73

The Poppies 76

Little China Doll 81

The Disorderly Girl 84

The Wise Old Gander 88

Dinah Cat and the Witch 94

The Star and the Lily 99

Lazy Gray 103

The Old Gray Hen 107

The Worsted Doll 112

THE SANDMAN’S
HOUR

WHERE THE SPARKS GO

ONE night when the wind was blowing and it was
clear and cold out of doors, a cat and a dog,
who were very good friends, sat dozing before a fire-
place. The wood was snapping and crackling, making
the sparks fly. Some flew up the chimney, others
settled into coals in the bed of the fireplace, while
others flew out on the hearth and slowly closed their
eyes and went to sleep.

One spark ventured farther out upon the hearth
and fell very near Pussy. This made her jump,
which awakened the dog.

“That almost scorched your fur coat, Miss Pussy,”
said the dog.

“No, indeed,” answered the cat. “I am far too
quick to be caught by those silly sparks.”

I

4 THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

“Why do you call them silly?” asked the dog. “I
think them very good to look at, and they help to
keep us warm.”

“Yes, that is all true,” said the cat, “but those
that fly up the chimney on a night like this certainly
are silly, when they could be warm and comfortable
inside; for my part, I cannot see why they fly up the
chimney.”

The spark that flew so near Pussy was still winking,
and she blazed up a little when she heard the remark
the cat made.

“If you knew our reason you would not call us
silly,” she said. “You cannot see what we do, but
if you were to look up the chimney and see what
happens if we are fortunate enough to get out at the
top, you would not call us silly.”

The dog and cat were very curious to know what
happened, but the spark told them to look and see
for themselves. Pussy was very cautious and told
the dog to look first, so he stepped boldly up to the
fireplace and thrust his head in. ~He quickly with-
drew it, for his hair was singed, which made him cry
and run to the other side of the room.

Miss Pussy smoothed her soft coat and was very
glad she had been so wise;, she walked over to the
dog and urged him to come nearer the fire, but he
realized why a burnt child dreads the fire, and re-
mained at a safe distance.

Pussy walked back to the spark and continued to

WHERE THE SPARKS GO

5

question it. “We cannot go into the fire,” she said.
“Now, pretty, bright spark, do tell us what becomes
of you when you fly up the chimney. I am sure you
only become soot and that cannot make you long to
get to the top.”

“Oh, you are very wrong,” said the spark. “We
are far from being black when we fly up the chimney,
for once we reach the top, we live forever sparkling
in the sky. You can see, if you look up the chimney,
all of our brothers and sisters, who have been lucky
and reached the top, winking at us almost every night.
Sometimes the wind blows them away, I suppose,
for there are nights when we cannot see the sparks
shine.”

“Who told you all that?” said the cat. “Did any
of the sparks ever come back and tell you they could
live forever?”

“Oh no!” said the spark; “but we can see them,
can we not? And, of course, we all want to shine
forever.”

“I said you were silly,” said the cat, “and now I
know it; those are not sparks you see; they are stars
in the sky.”

“You can call them anything you like,” replied the
spark, “but we make the bright light you see.”

“Well, if you take my advice,” said the cat, “you
will stay right in the fireplace, for once you reach the
top of the chimney out of sight you go. The stars
you see twinkling are far above the chimney, and you

6

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

never could reach them.” But the spark would not
be convinced. Just then some one opened a door and
the draught blew the spark back into the fireplace.
In a few minutes it was flying with the others toward
the top of the chimney.

Pussy watched the fire a minute and then looked at
the dog.

“The spark may be right, after all,” said the dog.
“Let us go out and see if we can see it.”

Pussy stretched herself and blinked. “Perhaps
it is true,” she replied; “anyway, I will go with you
and look.”

THE GOOD SEA MONSTER

ON an island of rocks out in the ocean lived a sea
monster. His head was large, and when he
opened his mouth it looked like a cave.

It had been said that he was so huge that he could
swallow a ship, and that on stormy nights he sat on
the rocks and the flashing of his eyes could be seen
for miles around.

The sailors spoke of him with fear and trembling,
but, as you can see, the sea monster had really been
a friend to them, showing them the rock in the storm
by flashing his eyes ; but because he looked so hideous
all who beheld him thought he must be a cruel mon-
ster.

One night there was a terrible storm, and the
monster went out into the ocean to see if any ship
was wrecked in the night, and, if possible, help any
one that was floating about.

8

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

He found one little boy floating about on a plank.
His name was Ko-Ko, and when he saw the monster
he was afraid, but when Ko-Ko saw that the monster
did not attempt to harm him he climbed on the
monster’s back and he took him to the rocky island.

Then the monster went back into the sea and
Ko-Ko wondered if he were to be left alone. But
after a while the monster returned and opened his
mouth very wide.

Ko-Ko ran when he saw the huge mouth, for he
thought the monster intended to swallow him, but
as he did not follow him Ko-Ko went back.

The monster opened his mouth again, and Ko-Ko
asked, “Do you want me to go inside?” and the
monster nodded his head.

“It must be for my own good,” said Ko-Ko, “for
he could easily swallow me if he wished, without wait-
ing for me to walk in.”

So Ko-Ko walked into the big mouth and down a
dark passage, but what the monster wanted him to
do he could not think. He could see very faintly now,
and after a while he saw a stove, a chair, and a table.

“ I will take these out,” said Ko-Ko, “for I am sure
I can use them.”

He took them to a cave on the island, and when he
returned the monster was gone ; but he soon returned,
and again he opened his mouth.

Ko-Ko walked in this time without waiting, and he
found boxes and barrels of food, which he stored

THE GOOD SEA MONSTER

9

away in the cave. When Ko-Ko had removed every-
thing the monster lay down and went to sleep.

Ko-Ko cooked his dinner and then he awoke the
monster and said, “Dinner is ready,” but the mon-
ster shook his head and plunged jnto the ocean. He
soon returned with his mouth full of fish. Then
Ko-Ko knew that the monster had brought all the
things from the sunken ship for him, and he began to
wish that the monster could talk, for he no longer
feared him.

“I wish you could talk,” he said.

“I can,” the monster replied. “No one ever
wished it before. An old witch changed me into a
monster and put me on this island, where no one
could reach me, and the only way I can be restored to
my original form is for some one to wish it.”

“I wish it,” said Ko-Ko.

“You have had your wish,” said the monster, “and
I can talk; but for me to become a man some one
else must wish it.”

The monster and Ko-Ko lived for a long time on
the island. He took Ko-Ko for long rides on his back,
and when the waves were too high and Ko-Ko was
afraid the monster would open his mouth and Ko-Ko
would crawl inside and be brought back safe to the
island.

One night, after a storm, Ko-Ko saw something
floating on the water, and he jumped on the monster’s
back and they swam out to it.

IO

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

It proved to be a little girl, about Ko-Ko’s age,
who had been on one of the wrecked vessels, and they
brought her to the island.

At first she was afraid of the monster, but when
she learned that he had saved Ko-Ko as well as her
and brought them all their food she became as fond
of him as Ko-Ko was. .

“I wish he were a man,” she said one day, as she
sat on his back with Ko-Ko, ready for a sail. Splash
went both children into the water, and there in place
of the monster was an old man. He caught the
children in his arms and brought them to the shore.

“But what will we do for food, now thg,t you are a
man?” asked Ko-Ko.

“We shall want for nothing now,” replied the old
man. “I am a sea-god and can do many things, now
that I have my own form again. We will change this
island into a beautiful garden, and when the little
girl and you are grown up and married you shall have
a castle, and all the sea-gods and nymphs will care
for you. You will never want for anything again.

“I will take you out on the ocean on the backs of
my dolphins.”

Ko-Ko and the little girl lived on the enchanted
island, and all the things that the old sea-god promised
came true.

MOTHER TURKEY AND HER CHICKS

MOTHER TURKEY believed in the old adage
taught to her by her grandmother, “The early
bird catches the worm,” and every night when the
sun set she took her little chicks to the highest branch
they could reach in an old apple-tree and sang them
to sleep with this lullaby:

“Close your eyes, my little, turkey chicks;

Hide your heads, don’t peep.

Mother knows the bogy fox’s tricks,

And she’ll watch while you sleep.”

Mother Turkey had told them about the bogy fox
that lived in a hole on the other side of the hill, and
it did not need more than the mention of that name
to make them obey.

“I do wish we could get just a look at him,” said
one chick, as his mother came to the end of the verse.

“I should not know him if I met him.”

2

12

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

“Oh yes, you would,” replied his mother. “He
has a very long tail, and a sharp nose, and his teeth !
Oh, dear me!” she exclaimed, as she flapped her wings
at the thought of them.

“Will you wake us if he comes to-night?” asked
another chick.

“I shall not need to do that,” replied Mother
Turkey; “you will hear us talking. He is a very sly
fellow, and always very polite and says nice things.
But you cover your heads; it is getting late,” and she
began to sing:

“Close your eyes, my little turkey chicks;

Hide your heads, don’t peep.

Mother knows the bogy fox’s tricks,

And she’ll watch while you sleep.”

By the time Mother Turkey reached the end of
the verse this time all the chicks were fast asleep.

Mother Turkey stretched out her wings once or
twice and turned her head in all directions, and then
she settled herself for a nap.

The moon was shining brightly when she awoke,
and she saw not far off what looked like a large
black dog walking cautiously toward the tree. Mother
Turkey took another look and saw the bushy tail, and
she perched herself more firmly on the limb and looked
to see if her children were safe on there, too, for she
knew that the bogy fox had come to take one of her
chicks back to his hole if he could,

MOTHER TURKEY AND HER CHICKS 13

“Good evening, Mr. Fox,” she said, as the fox
came near enough to hear her. “I was sure that I
knew your splendid figure; you certainly make a
most remarkable picture in the moonlight.”

Mr. Fox was somewhat taken aback at this compli-
ment paid him in such a pleasant manner, for usually
he was the one to make remarks and the turkeys
listened, not daring to move or speak.

He recovered from his surprise by the time he was
under the tree, and said: “You are most flattering,
Mistress Turkey, and I can only return the compli-
ment by telling you that you are a picture yourself
in the moonlight, sitting so stately on that limb, but
if you would enjoy to the full extent this beautiful
evening you must come from the tree and take a walk
over the hill.”

“No doubt you are right,” replied Mrs. Turkey,
“but I could not think of leaving my children alone.”

“I should be very glad to take care of the little
dears while you are gone,” said Mr. Fox, “and if you
will have them come down beside me I will tell
them a story which I am sure will keep them inter-
ested until you return.”

By this time the turkey chicks were awake and
listening to what the fox was saying. He seemed so
nice and polite that they quite forgot to be afraid,
and when he spoke of telling them a story one of
them said: “Oh, please do go, mother, and let him
tell us a story. We’ll be very good if you will.”

14

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

“You see, my dear madam,” said the fox, “the
little dears are quite willing to stay with me. Do go
and enjoy the moonlight.”

Mother Turkey looked at her children in a way
that plainly said to them, “Be quiet,” and then she
said to Mr. Fox: “I appreciate your kind offer, and
were my children well should be very glad to leave
them with you, but they have been sick, and are
so lean that I have to be very careful that they
sleep and eat well, or they will not be fat by next
Thanksgiving, and that would be a disgrace, you
know.”

When the fox heard this he was not so anxious to
have the chicks come down, so he said, “I know just
how anxious you must feel, Mistress Turkey, and if
you will come down where I can talk with you with-
out being heard I will tell you the very thing to give
them to make them fat.”

“If he cannot get the chicks he will take me,”
thought Mrs. Turkey, “but I am too old a bird to be
caught even by this sly fellow.”

Mrs. Turkey did not reply to this last remark.
She was thinking of a trap she saw her master set the
day before. “I wish you would walk around a little
so my children can see what a beautiful bushy tail
you have,” she said. “They have never seen so
handsome a fellow as you are.”

Mr. Fox was very proud of his tail, so he walked
out from the shade of the tree and strutted about.

MOTHER TURKEY AND HER CHICKS 15

“Tell him how handsome he is,” whispered Mother
Turkey to her chicks.

“Oh, isn’t he handsome!’’ said one, and another
said, “ I wish we had such bushy tails, instead of these
straight feathers,” while Mrs. Turkey said, “You are
quite the handsomest creature I have ever seen, and
I have seen many in my time.”

By this time the fox was so pleased with their ad-
miration that he was ready to do anything to display
his charms, so when Mrs. Turkey said, “I wish you
would run and show them how you can run and
jump,” he asked what he could jump on to show his
nimbleness.

“The top of that hogshead would be a good place,”
said Mrs. Turkey, knowing well that the cask had no
head and that it was nearly full of water.

Away ran Mr. Fox, and splash he went into the
hogshead. He tried to get out, but it was no use;
the cask was too high, and then the farmer, hearing
the noise, came out and soon put an end to Mr. Fox.

The little turkeys sat wide-awake and trembling
beside their mother, but when the farmer went into
the house she began to sing:

“Close your eyes, my little turkey chicks;

Hide your heads, don’t peep.

Mother knows the bogy fox’s tricks,

And she’ll watch while you sleep.”

And in a few minutes all was quiet again in the yard.

THE FAIRIES AND THE DANDELION

THE Fairies say that a long time ago the dandelion
did not have a yellow blossom or the fluffy white
cap it wears after the yellow has been taken off.

They tell the story that one night, a long time ago,
while they were holding one of their revels in a, field,
sounds of weeping and moaning were heard.

The Fairy Queen stopped the dance and listened.
“It comes from the ground,” she said, “down among
the grasses. Hurry, all of you; find out who is in
trouble and come back and tell me.”

Away went the Fairies into the fields and gardens
and lanes. Darting in and out among the blades of
grass, they found queer-looking weeds with leaves
resembling a lion’s tooth. They* were crying and
chanting a sing-song tune:

“Here we grow so bright and green,

The color of grass, and can’t be seen.

O bitter woe, but we’ll not stop
Till the Fairies give us a yellow top.”

THE FAIRIES AND THE DANDELION 17

Back flew the Fairies to their Queen and told her
what they had heard.

“If only they had asked for some other color!”
she said. “There are so many yellow blossoms now.
The buttercup, the goldenglow, and the goldenrod
will all be jealous if another yellow flower enters their
bright circle. Go back and ask them if they will be
quiet if we give them a white top.”

The Fairies danced away to the crying dandelions
with the Queen’s message.

“The Queen will give you a white top,” they said.

“No, no!” they cried. “Yellow is the color we
should wear with our green leaves. It is the color of
the sun and we wish to be as near like him as we
can,” and they all began to cry:

“O bitter woe, we will not stop
Till the Fairies give us a yellow top.”

They made such a noise that the Fairies put their
fingers in their ears as they flew back to the Queen.

The grass-blades stood up higher and looked about.
“Do quiet those noisy weeds,” they said to the
Queen; “give them the yellow top for which they
are crying, and let us go to sleep. We have been
kept awake since sunset and it will soon be sunrise.”

“What shall we do?” said the Queen. “I do not
know where to get the yellow they want.”

“If we could get some sunbeams,” said one Fairy,
“we could have just the color they are crying for.

i8

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

Of course, we cannot venture into such a strong light,
but the Elves might gather them for us.”

So they went to the Elves and asked them to gather
the sunbeams for the next day, and bring them to the
valley the next night.

The Elves were very willing to help them, but the
sun shone very little the next day, and they were
able to gather only a few basketfuls of the bright
golden color.

When the Queen saw the quantity she was in de-
spair. “This will never go around,” she said, “and
those that are left without a yellow top will cry
louder than ever.”

“Why not divide it among them?” said one Fairy.
“It will last for a little while and we can give them
our fluffy white caps when that is gone. We shall
take them off soon and the dandelions can wear them
the rest of the season.”

The face of the Queen brightened. “The very
thing,” she said, “if only the noisy little weeds will
agree. Go to them and say they can wear yellow of
the very shade they most desire half the season if
they are willing to accept our fluffy white caps for
the other half.”

The Fairies hurried to the dandelions and told them
what the Queen had said. The dandelions stopped
crying and said they would be satisfied, and the Queen
rode through the meadows, fields, gardens, and lanes,
dropping gold upon each weed as she passed along.

THE FAIRIES AND THE DANDELION 19

In the morning when the sun beheld his own
bright color looking up at him he was so surprised
that he almost stood still.

The Fairies kept their promise, and when it was
time to take off their fluffy white caps they went
among the dandelions and hung a cap on each stem.

The dandelions did not cry again, and the grass
sleeps on from sunset to sunrise, undisturbed.

MR. ’POSSUM

MR. ’POSSUM lived in a tree in the woods where
Mr. Bear lived, and one morning just before
spring Mr. ’Possum awoke very hungry.

He ran around to Mr. Squirrel’s house and tried to
get an invitation to breakfast, but Mr. Squirrel had
only enough for himself. He knew that Mr. ’Possum
always lived on his neighbors when he could, so he
said: “Of course you have been to breakfast long
ago, Mr. ’Possum, you are such a smart fellow, so I
will not offer you any.”

Mr. ’Possum of course said he had, and that he
only dropped in to make a call ; he was on his wav to
Mr. Rabbit’s house.

But he met with no better success at Mr. Rabbit’s,
for he only put his nose out of the door, and when he
saw who was there, said: “I am as busy as I can be
getting ready for my spring planting. Will you come
in and help sort seeds?”

MR. ’POSSUM

21

Mr. Rabbit knew the easiest way to be rid of Mr.
’Possum was to ask him to work.

“I would gladly help you,” replied Mr. ’Possum,
“but I am in a great hurry this morning. I have some
important business with Mr. Bear and I only stopped
to say how-do-you-do.”

“Mr. Bear, I am afraid, will not be receiving to-
day,” said Mr. Rabbit. “It is rather early for him to
be up, isn’t it?”

“ I thought as the sun was nice and warm he might
venture out, and I thought it would please him to
have me there to welcome him,”' said Mr. ’Possum.
“Besides that, I wish to see him on business.”

Now, Mr. ’Possum knew well enough that Mr.
Bear would not be up, and he wanted to find him
sleeping, and soundly, too.

He went to the door and knocked softly, then he
waited, and as he did not hear any moving inside
he went to a window and looked in. There was Mr.
Bear’s chair and pipe just as he left them when he
went to bed. He looked in the bedroom window and
he could see in the bed a big heap of bedclothes, and
just the tiniest tip of Mr. Bear’s nose.

Mr. ’Possum listened, and he trembled a little,
for he could hear Mr. Bear breathing very loud, and
it sounded anything but pleasant.

“Oh, he is sound asleep for another week!” said
Mr. ’Possum. “What is the use of being afraid?”
He walked around the house until he came to the

22

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

pantry window; then he stopped and raised the
sash.

He put in one foot and sat on the sill and listened.
All was still, so he slid off to the floor. Mr. ’Possum
looked around Mr. Bear’s well-filled pantry. He did
not know where to begin, he was so hungry.

He became so interested and was so greedy that he
forgot all about that he was in Mr. Bear’s pantry,
and he stayed on and on and ate and ate.

Then he fell asleep, and the first thing he knew a
pair of shining eyes were looking in the window and
a big head with a red mouth full of long white teeth
was poked into the pantry.

Mr. ’Possum thought his time had come, so he
just closed his eyes and pretended he was dead, but
he peeked a little so as to see what happened.

The big head was followed by a body, and when it
was on the sill Mr. ’Possum saw it was Mr. Fox, and
the next thing he knew Mr. Fox came off the sill with
a bang and hit a pan of beans and then knocked over
a jar of preserves.

The noise was enough to awaken all the bears for
miles around, and Mr. ’Possum was frightened nearly
to death, for he heard Mr. Bear growling in the next
room.

While Mr. Fox was on the floor and trying to get
up on his feet Mr. ’Possum jumped up and was out
of the window like a flash. Mr. Fox saw something,
but he did not know what, and before he could make

MR. ’POSSUM

23

his escape the door of the pantry opened and there
stood Mr. Bear with a candle in his hand, looking in.

“Oh, oh!” he growled, “so you are trying to rob me
while I’m taking my sleep, v and he sprang at Mr. Fox.

“Wait, wait,” said Mr. Fox. “Let me explain, my
dear Mr. Bear. You are mistaken; I was trying to
protect your home. I saw your window open and
knew you were asleep, and when I got in the window
the thief attacked me and nearly killed me and now
you are blaming me for it. You are most ungrateful.
I shall know another time what to do.”

Mr. Bear looked at him. His mouth did not show
any signs of food, and Mr. Fox opened his mouth and
told him to look.

“I wonder who it could have been?” he said, when
he was satisfied that Mr. Fox was not the thief. “It
may have been that ’Possum fellow. I’ll go over to
his house in the morning.”

The next morning Mr. Bear called on Mr. ’Possum.
He found him sleeping soundly, and when he at last
opened the door he was rubbing his eyes as though he
was not half awake.

“Why, how do you do?” he said, when he saw Mr.
Bear. “I did not suppose you were up yet.”

“You didn’t?” asked Mr. Bear, and then he stared
at Mr. ’Possum’s coat. “What is the matter with
your coat?” he asked. “You have white hairs stick-
ing out all over you, and the rest of your coat is almost
white, too.”

24

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

Now Mr. ’Possum had a black coat before, and he
ran to the mirror and looked at himself. It was true;
he was almost white. He knew what had happened.
He was so frightened when he was caught in Mr.
Bear’s pantry by Mr. Fox, and heard Mr. Bear growl,
that he had turned nearly white with fright.

“I have been terribly ill,” he told Mr. Bear, going
back to the door. “And I have been here all alone
this winter. It was a terrible sickness; I guess that
is what has caused it.”

Mr. Bear went away, shaking his head. “That
fellow is crafty,” he said. “I feel sure he was the
thief, and yet he certainly does look sick.”

After that all the opossums were of dull white
color, with long, white hairs scattered here and there
over their fur. They were never able to outgrow the
mark the thieving Mr. ’Possum left upon his race.

THE ROOSTER THAT CROWED TOO SOON

RED Rooster felt it was time he showed the new
. drake that had come to live in the barnyard
that he was a very brave rooster, as well as the ruler
of the barnyard.

So the next time he saw the drake he said: “I
suppose you have been in many battles, and no doubt
the home you have just come from will miss your pro-
tection as well as your company.’

“No,” replied the drake; “I never was in a battle.
I do not quarrel with any one. I believe in living in
peace with all around me.”

“Oh, well, that is all very well for you, perhaps,”
said the rooster; “but for me, it is a different matter.
I have to protect all the hens and chickens and I also
protect myself. I can whip any rooster around here,
and no one dares come into my yard.”

The drake did not reply, for just then a strange

26

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

rooster came into the yard, and Red Rooster ran at
him with sweeping wings.

He pecked at the. intruder and spurred him until
he was glad to run away.

“There, what did I tell you?” said Red Rooster,
coming back to the drake. “I am the greatest fighter
around this part of the country. I am not afraid of
anything.”

“Oh, don’t talk so much about it,” said the dog
from his house near-by. 4 4 I think there are a few things
even you are afraid of, Mr. Rooster. I guess you
would run from a fox.”

“I am not afraid of a fox,” said Red Rooster. “I can
scare him by crowing loudly. Master knows when I
make a great noise it is time for him to find the cause.
Oh, I am very brave and can take care of myself.”

Red Rooster felt so brave that he thought the
highest place he could get on the wall would be a
good place to talk about his bravery, so he flew up
on the wall by the gate, and then to the top of the
hen-house.

Madam Pig was in her pen on the other side.
“Madam Pig,” he said, “did you see me whip that
impudent rooster that came through our yard?”

Madam Pig grunted that she did not, as she could
not see over the wall.

“You surely missed a great sight,” said the rooster,
stretching his neck and strutting along the roof.

‘ ‘ I am a brave fellow. I never allow any one to come

THE ROOSTER THAT CROWED TOO SOON 27

around here that does not belong here. I have just
been telling the new drake about my prowess and
bravery.

“Mr. Drake,” he called, as the new drake and his
family waddled past the hen-house, “if you need pro-
tection at any time do not hesitate to call upon me.”

A robin perched upon the roof not far from him,
and Red Rooster flew at him. “Go away,” he said.
“I am very fierce and brave, and if you were as large
as a cow I should attack you just the same. I am not
afraid of anything.”

Red Rooster strutted up and down, crowing and
thinking how brave he was, and so intent was he upon
his greatness that he did not heed the warning cries
that came from the fowls in the yard below him.

In a moment more a big hawk swooped down and
held Red Rooster in his claws. He started to fly just
as the shot from a gun sounded, and Red Rooster fell
to the ground.

He jumped up and shook himself, and looked in
time to see his master pick up the dead hawk.

“I guess that hawk won’t show himself around
here again,” he said. “That was a very hard fight,
but I won, even if I did get a tumble.”

“Well, if you are not a conceited fellow!” laughed
the dog; “but I was not the only one that saw the
hawk start off with you, and we all know that if
master had not shot it you would not be here to crow

to-morrow morning.”

3

28

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

“No,” piped the robin from a tree; “you were
telling me how brave you were, and the hawk was not
half as large as a cow. You were not very brave when
he came upon you. You did not do a thing. Oh,
dear ! it was so funny to hear you crowing about your
bravery and then to see you caught up so soon by a
hawk that is only a little larger than you.”

The drake and all his family were listening, and
Madam Pig had put her head over the wall to listen.
Poor Red Rooster felt that it was no time to crow
about his bravery, so he walked away with all the
dignity he could muster.

“He crowed too soon,” said the drake.

“He crowed too much,” said the dog.

“He crowed too loud,” said the robin, “or he would
have heard the warning cries from the hens and
chickens.”

TEARFUL

ONCE upon a time there was a little girl named
Tearful, because she cried so often.

If she could not have her own way, she cried; if
she could not have everything for which she wished,
she cried.

Her mother told her one day that she would melt
away in tears if she cried so often. “You are like the
boy who cried for the moon,” she told her, “and if
it had been given to him it would not have made him
happy, for what possible use could the moon be to
any one out of its proper place ? And that is the way
with you ; half the things for which you cry would be
of no use to you if you got them.”

Tearful did not take warning or heed her mother’s
words of wisdom, and kept on crying just the same.

One morning she was crying as she walked along
to school, because she wanted to stay at home, when
she noticed a frog hopping along beside her.

30

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

“Why are you following me?” she asked, looking
at him through her tears.

“Because you will soon form a pond around you
with your tears,” replied the frog, “and I have always
wanted a pond all to myself.”

“I shall not make any pond for you,” said Tearful,
“and I do not want you following me, either.”

The frog continued to hop along beside her, and
Tearful stopped crying and began to run, but the
frog hopped faster, and she could not get away from
him, so she began to cry again.

“Go away, you horrid green frog!” she said.

At last she was so tired she sat on a stone by the
roadside, crying all the time.

“Now,” replied the frog, “I shall soon have my
pond.”

Tearful cried harder than ever, then; she could
not see, her tears fell so fast, and by and by she
heard a splashing sound. She opened her eyes and
saw water all around her.

She was on a small island in the middle of the pond;
the frog hopped out of the pond, making a terrible
grimace as he sat down beside her.

“I hope you are satisfied,” said Tearful. “You
have your pond; why don’t you stay in it?”

“Alas!” replied the frog, “I have wished for some-
thing which I cannot use now that I have it. Your
tears are salt and my pond which I have all by myself
is so salt that I cannot enjoy it. If only your tears

TEARFUL

3i

had been fresh I should have been a most fortunate
fellow.”

•‘You needn’t stay if you do not like it,” said
Tearful, “and you needn’t find fault with my tears,
either,” she said, beginning to cry again.

“Stop! stop!” cried the frog, hopping about ex-
citedly; “you will have a flood if you keep on crying.”

Tearful saw the water rising around her, so she
stopped a minute. “What shall I do?” she asked.
“I cannot swim, and I will die if I have to stay here,”
and then she began to cry again.

The frog hopped up and down in front of her, waving
his front legs and telling her to hush. “ If you would
only stop crying,” he said, “I might be able to help
you, but I cannot do a thing if you cover me with
your salt tears.”

Tearful listened, and promised she would not cry
if he would get her away from the island.

“There is only one way that I know of,” said the
frog; “you must smile; that will dry the pond and
we can escape.”

“But I do not feel like smiling,” said Tearful, and
her eyes filled with tears again.

“Look out!” said the frog; “you will surely be
drowned in your own tears if you cry again.”

Tearful began to laugh. “That would be queer,
wouldn’t it, to be drowned in my own tears?” she
said.

“That is right, keep on smiling,” said the frog;

32

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

“the pond is smaller already.” And he stood up on
his hind legs and began to dance for joy.

Tearful laughed again. “Oh, you are so funny!”
she said. “ I wish I had your picture. I never saw a
frog dance before.”

“You have a slate under your arm,” said the frog.
“Why don’t you draw a picture of me?” The frog
picked up a stick and stuck it in the ground, and
then he leaned on it with one arm, or front leg, and,
crossing his feet, he stood very still.

Tearful drew him in that position, and then he
kicked up his legs as if he were dancing, and she tried
to draw him that way, but it was not a very good
likeness.

“Do you like that?” she asked the frog when she
held the slate for him to see. He looked so surprised
that Tearful laughed again. “You did not think
you were handsome, did you?” she asked.

“I had never thought I looked as bad as those
pictures,” replied the frog. “Let me try drawing
your picture,” he said.

“Now look pleasant,” he said, as he seated himself
in front of Tearful, “and do smile.”

Tearful did as he requested, and in a few minutes
he handed her the slate. “Where is my nose?” asked
Tearful, laughing.

“Oh, I forgot the nose !” said the frog. ‘ ‘ But don’t
you think your eyes are nice and large, and your
mouth, too?”

TEARFUL

33

‘‘They are certainly big in this picture,” said
Tearful. “I hope I do not look just like that.”

“I do not think either of us are artists,” replied the
frog.

Tearful looked around her. “Why, where is the
pond?” she asked. “It is gone.”

“I thought it would dry up if you would only
smile,” said the frog; “and I think both of us have
learned a lesson. I shall never again wish for a pond
of my own. I should be lonely without my com-
panions, and then, it might be salt, just as this one
was. And you surely will never cry over little things
again, for you see what might happen to you, and
then you look so much prettier smiling.”

“Perhaps I do,” said Tearful, “but your pictures
of me make me doubt it. However, I feel much
happier smiling, and I do not want to be on an island
again, even with such a pleasant companion as you
were.”

“Look out for the tears, then,” said the frog as he
hopped away.

HILDA’S MERMAID

LITTLE Hilda’s father was a sailor and went
4 away on long voyages. Hilda lived in a little
cottage on the shore and used to spin and knit while
her father was away, for her mother was dead and
she had to be the housekeeper. Some days she would
go out in her boat and fish, for Hilda was fond of the
water. She was bom and had always lived on the
shore. When the water was very calm Hilda would
look down into the blue depths and try to see a
mermaid. She was very anxious to see one, she had
heard her father tell such wonderful stories about
them — how they sang, and combed their beautiful
long hair.

One night when the wind was blowing and the rain
was beating hard upon her window Hilda could hear
the horn warning the sailors off the rocks. Hilda

HILDA’S MERMAID

35

lighted her father’s big lantern and ran down to the
shore and hung it on the mast of a wreck which lay
there, so the sailors would not run their ships upon
it. Little Hilda was not afraid, for she had seen many
such storms. When she returned to her cottage she
found the door was unlatched, but thought the wind
had blown it open. When she entered she found a
little girl with beautiful hair sitting on the floor.
She was a little frightened at first, for the girl wore a
green dress and it was wound around her body in the
strangest manner.

“I saw your light,*’ said the child, “and came in.
The wind blew me far up on shore. I should not have
come up on a night like this, but a big wave looked so
tempting I thought I would jump on it and have a
nice ride, but it was nearer the shore than I thought
it, and it landed me right near your door.’’

“Oh, my!” How Hilda’s heart beat, for she knew
this child must be a mermaid. Then she saw what
she had thought a green dress was really her body
and tail curled up on the floor, and it was beautiful
as the lamp fell upon it and made it glisten.

“Will you have some of my supper?” asked Hilda,
for she wanted to be hospitable, although she had not
the least idea what mermaids ate.

“Thank you,” answered the mermaid. “I am not
very hungry, but if you could give me a seaweed
sandwich I should like it.”

Poor Hilda did not know what to do, but she went

36

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

to the closet and brought out some bread, which she
spread with nice fresh butter, and filled a glass with
milk. She told her she was sorry, but she did not
have any seaweed sandwiches, but she hoped she
would like what she had prepared. The little mer-
maid ate it and Hilda was pleased.

“Do you live here all the time?” she asked Hilda.
“I should think you would be very warm and want
to be in the water part of the time.”

Hilda told her she could not live in the water as
she did, because her body was not like hers.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” replied the mermaid. “I
hoped you would visit me some time; we have such
good times, my sisters and I, under the sea.”

“Tell me about your home,” said Hilda.

“Come and sit beside me and I will,” she re-
plied.

Hilda sat upon the floor by her side. The mermaid
felt of Hilda’s clothes and thought it must be a bother
to have so many clothes.

“How can you swim?” she asked.

Hilda told her she put on a bathing-suit, but the
mermaid thought that a nuisance.

“I will tell you about our house first,” she began.
“Our father, Neptune, lives in a beautiful castle at
the bottom of the sea. It is built of mother-of-pearl.
All around the castle grow beautiful green things, and
it has fine white sand around it also. All my sisters
live there, and we are always glad to get home after

HILDA’S MERMAID

37

we have been at the top of the ocean, it is so nice and
cool in our home. The wind never blows there and
the rain does not reach us.”

“You do not mind being wet by the rain, do you?”
asked Hilda.

“Oh no!” said the mermaid, “but the rain hurts
us. It falls in little sharp points and feels like
pebbles.”

“How do you know how pebbles, feel?” Hilda
asked.

“Oh, sometimes the nereids come and bother us;
they throw pebbles and stir up the water so we can-
not see.”

“Who are the nereids?” asked Hilda.

“They are the sea-nymphs; but we make the
dogfish drive them away. We are sirens, and they
are very jealous of us because we are more beautiful
than they,” said the mermaid.

Hilda thought she was rather conceited, but the
little mermaid seemed to be quite unconscious she
had conveyed that impression.

“How do you find your way home after you have
been at the top of the ocean?” asked Hilda.

“Oh, when Father Neptune counts us and finds
any missing he sends a whale to spout; sometimes he
sends more than one, and we know where to dive
when we see that.”

“What do you eat besides seaweed sandwiches?”
asked Hilda.

38

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

“Fish eggs, and very little fish,” answered the mer-
maid. “When we have a party we have cake.”

Hilda opened her eyes. “Where do you get cake?”
she asked.

“We make it. We grind coral into flour and mix
it with fish eggs; then we put it in a shell and send
a mermaid to the top of the ocean with it and she
holds it in the sun until it bakes. We go to the
Gulf Stream and gather grapes and we have sea-foam
and lemonade to drink.”

“Lemonade?” said Hilda. “Where do you get
your lemons?”

“Why, the sea-lemon!” replied the mermaid;
“that is a small mussel-fish the color of a lemon.”

“What do you do at your parties — you cannot
dance?” said Hilda.

“We swim to the music, circle around and dive and
glide.”

“But the music — where do you get musicians?”
Hilda continued.

“We have plenty of music,” replied the mer-
maid. “The sea-elephant trumpets for us ; then there
is the pipefish, the swordfish runs the scales of the
sea-adder with his sword, the sea-shells blob, and
altogether we have splendid music. But it is late,
and we must not talk any more.”

So the little mermaid curled herself up and soon
they were asleep.

The sun shining in the window awakened Hilda

HILDA’S MERMAID

39

next morning and she looked about her. The mer-
maid was not there, but Hilda was sure it had not
been a dream, for she found pieces of seaweed on the
floor, and every time she goes out in her boat she
looks for her friend, and when the whales spout she
knows they are telling the mermaids to come home.

THE MIRROR’S DREAM

“r‘THE very idea of putting me in the attic!” said
A the little old-fashioned table, as it spread out
both leaves in a gesture of despair. ‘‘I have stood in
the parlor down-stairs for fifty years, and now I am
consigned to the rubbish-room,” and it dropped its
leaves at its side with a sigh.

“I was there longer than that,” said the sofa.
“Many a courtship I have helped along.”

“What do you think of me?” asked an old mirror
that stood on the floor, leaning against the
wall. “To be brought to the attic after reflecting
generation after generation. All the famous beauties
have looked into my face; it is a degradation from
which I can never recover. This young mistress who
has come here to live does not seem to understand
the dignity of our position. Why, I was in the family
when her husband’s grandmother was a girl and she

THE MIRROR’S DREAM

4i

has doomed me to a dusty attic to dream out the rest
of my days.”

The shadows deepened in the room and gradually
the discarded mirror ceased to complain. It had
fallen asleep, but later the moonlight streamed in
through the window and showed that its dreams were
pleasant ones, for it dreamed of the old and happy
days.

The door opened softly and a young girl entered.
Her hair was dark and hung in curls over her white
shoulders. Her dark eyes wandered over the room
until she saw the old mirror.

She ran across the room and stood in front of it.
She wore a hoop-skirt over which hung her dress of
pale gray, with tiny pink ruffles that began at her
slender waist and ended at the bottom of her wide
skirt.

Tiny pink rosebuds were dotted over the waist
and skirt, and she also wore them in her dark curls,
where one stray blossom bolder than the others rested
* against her soft cheek.

She stood before the mirror and gazed at her re-
flection a minute; then she curtsied, and said,
with a laugh, “I think you will do; he must speak
to-night.”

She seemed to fade away in the moonlight, and the
door opened again and a lady entered, and with her
came five handsome children.

They went to the mirror, and one little girl with

42

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

dark curls and pink cheeks went close and touched
it with her finger. “Look,” she said to the others, “ I
look just like the picture of mother when she was a
girl.” And as they stood there a gentleman appeared
beside them and put his arm around the lady and the
children gathered around them. They seemed to
walk along the moonlight path and disappear through
the window.

Softly the door opened again and an old lady
entered, leaning on the arm of an old gentleman.
They walked to the mirror and he put his arms around
her and kissed her withered cheek.

“You are always young and fair to me,” he said,
and her face smiled into the depths of the old
mirror.

The moonlight made a halo around their heads as
they faded away.

The morning light streamed in through the window
and the mirror’s dream was ended.

By and by the door opened and a young girl came
in the room. Her dark hair was piled high on her
head, and her dark eyes looked over the room until
they fell upon a chest in the comer. She went to it
and opened it and took out a pale-gray dress with
pink ruffles. She put it on; then she let down her
hair, which fell in curls over her shoulders.

She ran to the old mirror and looked at herself.
“ I do look like grandmother,” she said. “I will wear
this to the old folks’ party to-night. Grandfather

THE MIRROR’S DREAM

43

proposed to grandmother the night she wore this
dress.” Her cheeks turned very pink as she said this,
and she ran out of the room.

Then one day the door opened again and a bride
entered, leaning on the arm of her young husband.
There were tears in her eyes, although she was smiling.
She led him in front of the old mirror. “This old
mirror,” she said, “has seen all the brides in our fam-
ily for generations, and I am going far away and
may never look into it again. My brother’s wife
does not want it down-stairs, and I may be the last
bride it will ever see,” and she passed her hand over
its frame caressingly.

And then she went away and the old mirror was
left to its dreams for many years. Then one day
the door opened again and a lady entered; with her
was a young girl.

The lady looked around the attic room until she
saw the mirror. “There it is,” she said. “Come and
look in it, dear.” The young girl followed her.
“The last time I looked into this dear old mirror,”
the lady said, “was the day your father and I were
married. I never expected to have it for my own
then. But your uncle’s wife wants to remodel the
house, and these things are in the way ; she does not
want old-fashioned things, and they are willing I
should have them.”

“Oh, mother, they are beautiful !” said the girl, look-
ing around the room. “We will never part with them;

4

44

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

we will take them to our home and make them forget
they were ever discarded.”

And so the mirror and the sofa and the table and
many other pieces of bygone days went to live where
they were loved, and the old mirror still reflects dark-
haired girls and ladies, who smile into its depths and
see its beauty as well as their own.

/

THE CONTEST

THE old white rooster was dead.

The hens stood in groups of threes and fours
all around the yard, the turkeys were gathered around
the big gobbler and seemed to be talking very ear-
nestly.

The ducks stood around the old drake, who was
shaking his head emphatically as he talked.

The geese were listening very attentively to the
gander, and he was stretching his neck and seemed to
be trying to impress them with its length.

“I see no reason now why I should not be king of
the yard, ’ ’ he was saying. ‘ ‘ White Rooster is dead and
there is no other rooster to take his place. I am
going to see the hens and ask them what they think.

“White Rooster is dead,” he said to them, “and I
think I should be king of the yard. My neck is very
long and I can see over the heads of all the fowls; I

46

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

see no reason why I should not take the place of White
Rooster.”

The turkeys and the geese, seeing the gander ap-
proach the hens, ran as fast as they could to hear
what he was saying.

The turkey gobbler, hearing the last part of the
gander’s remark, said: “How can you say that you
can see over all heads ? Have you forgotten me and my
height? And as for being king,” he said, “the rooster
never should have been cock of the walk. I am a
much more majestic-looking bird than any rooster.
No, indeed, you should never think of ruling, Sir
Gander. I should be king of the yard.”

The gobbler walked away, spreading out his wings
and letting them drag on the ground and gobbling
very loudly.

The ducks and the drake stood listening to all this
talk, and as the gobbler walked away the drake said :
“I cannot understand why any one should think of
being king when I know so much of the world. I am
the one to rule, for I have been all around the pond,
and it is very large; because of my knowledge I think
I should be king.”

“He must not be king,” whispered one old hen to
another; “he would make us go in the water, and we
will all be drowned.”

They had talked a long time without reaching any
decision, when the dog happened along. “What is
the matter?” he asked.

THE CONTEST

47

“The old white rooster is dead,” said the gobbler,
who had returned with his family to hear the dis-
cussion, “and I think I should be king, and the drake
and the gander think they should, but, of course,
you can see that I am best suited to rule the yard.”

“You can settle that very easily,” said the dog.
“You can all take a turn at being king, and in that
way you will know who is best suited to rule.” And
so it was decided, and the gobbler was the first one
to go on trial. The poor hens tagged along after the
turkeys, for the gobbler insisted upon parading all
around the yard. The gander and the drake would
not follow behind, so the gander and his family
walked on one side of the gobbler, and the drake and
his family on the other.

The poor hens wept as they followed behind. “I
never was so humiliated in my life,” said one old hen,
“and it is not right.”

The next day there was so much dissatisfaction
because of the gobbler’s overbearing way that the
dog decided that the drake must take his turn.

“Everybody must learn to swim,” said the drake
as soon as he was appointed ruler. “Come down to
the pond,” and off he started, his family waddling
after him.

“What did I tell you?” said the old hen. “This
will be the end of us.”

The geese did not mind being in the water part of
the time, but the turkeys set up such a gobble and

48

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

the hens cackled so loudly that the dog had to decide
right there that the drake was not a suitable king.

The gander, knowing that his time had come,
stretched his neck and looked very important.

“You need not go near the pond,” he said to the
hens, “but you must learn to fly,” and he spread out
his wings as he spoke and flew over the fence, the
geese following him.

The turkeys flew to the top of the fence and roosted
there, but the hens and ducks stood on the ground,
looking up at them in the most discouraged way,
and at the gobbler, who gobbled at them, saying,
“You are to be pitied, for you do not see all the sights
we do and you never can fly to the top of this fence.

“There is the master,” he said. “He is coming
down the road and he has something under his arm.
I’ll tell you what it is when he gets nearer.”

The hens were trying to look under the fence and
through the holes.

The gobbler looked for a minute, and then he said :
“I do believe — ” then he stopped. “Yes, it is,” he
continued, looking again; “it’s a rooster.”

The gobbler flew down and the turkeys followed
and the master drove the gander and his family back
to the yard. “You will get your wings clipped to-
morrow,” he said, and then from under his arm he
released a big yellow-and-black rooster, which flew
to the ground, looked about, spread his wings and
crowed in a way that plainly said: “ I am cock of this

THE CONTEST

49

walk and king of this yard. Let none dispute my
rights.”

The drake collected his family and started for the
pond, and the gander and geese followed along
behind.

The turkey spread his wings and held his head high
as he strutted away with his family. But he did
not impress the new rooster; he was ruler and he
knew it.

“Now the sun will know when to rise,” said one hen,
“and we shall know when to awake.”

“Yes,” said another, “and we have had a narrow
escape; it looked for a while as if our family were to
lose its social standing, but now that we have a new
king we can hold up our heads again and look down
on the others, if we have to go to the top of the wood-
pile to do it.”

The dog laughed to himself as he walked away.
“I knew all the time,” he said, “that the new rooster
was coming, but I thought it would do them good to
know they were only fitted to care for their own flock.”

THE PINK AND BLUE EGGS

“ T TELL you I saw them with my own eyes,” said
1 old White Hen, standing on one foot with her neck
outstretched and her bill wide open. “One was pink
and the other was blue. They were just like any other
egg as far as size, but the color — think of it — pink
and blue eggs. Whoever could have laid them?” Old
White Hen looked from one to the other of the group
of hens and chickens as they stood around her.

“Well, I know that I didn’t,” said Speckled Hen.

“You needn’t look at me,” said Brown Hen. “I
lay large white eggs, and you know it, every one of
you. They are the best eggs in the yard, if I do say
it.”

“Oh, I would not say that,” said White Hen.
“You seem to forget that the largest egg ever seen
in this yard was laid by me, and it was a little on the
brown color; white eggs are all well enough, but give
me a brown tone for quality.”

THE PINK AND BLUE EGGS

5i

“You never laid such a large egg as that but once,”
replied Brown Hen, “and everybody thought it was
a freak egg, so the least said about it the better, it
seems to me.”

“It is plain to understand how you feel about that
egg,” said White Hen, “but it does not help us to
find out who laid the blue and pink eggs.”

“Where did you see them?” asked Speckled Hen.

“On the table, by the window of the farm-house,”
said old White Hen. “I flew up on a barrel that
stood under the window, and then I stretched my
neck and looked in the window, and there on the
table, in a little basket, I saw those strange-looking
eggs.”

“Perhaps the master had bought them for some
one of us to sit on and hatch out,” said Brown
Hen.

“Well, I, for one, refuse to do it,” said White Hen.
“I think it would be an insult to put those gaudy
things into our nests.”

“I am sure I will not hatch them,” said Speckled
Hen. “I would look funny hiking around here with
a blue chick and a pink chick beside me, and I a
speckled hen. No! I will not mother fancy-colored
chicks; the master can find another hen to do that.”

“You do not think for a minute that I would do
such a thing, I hope,” said Brown Hen. “I only
mentioned the fact that the master might have such
an idea, but as for mixing up colors, I guess not. My

52

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

little yellow darlings shall not be disgraced by a blue
and a pink chick running with them.”

“Perhaps White Hen is color-blind,” said Speckled
Hen. “The eggs she saw may be white, after all.”

“If you doubt my word or my sight go and look
for yourselves,” said White Hen, holding her head
high. “You will find a blue and a pink egg, just as I
told you.”

Off ran Speckled Hen and Brown Hen, followed by
many others, and all the chicks in the yard.

One after another they flew to the top of the barrel
and looked in the window at the eggs White Hen had
told them of. It was all too true; the eggs were blue
and pink.

“Peep, peep, peep, peep, we want to see the blue
and pink eggs, too,” cried the chickens. “We never
saw any and we want to look at them.”

“Oh dear! why did I talk before them?” said
Brown Hen. “They will not be quiet unless they
see, and how in the world shall I get them up to
that window?”

“Did it ever occur to you not to give them every-
thing they cry for?” said White Hen. “Say ‘No’
once in a while; it will save you a lot of trouble.”

“I cannot bear to deny the little darlings anything,”
said Brown Hen, clucking her little brood and trying
to quiet them.

“Well, you better begin now, for this is one of the
things you will not be able to do,” said White Hen,

THE PINK AND BLUE EGGS

53

strutting over to the dog-house to tell the story of
the blue and pink eggs to Towser.

“Wouldn’t it be just too awful if the master puts
those eggs in one of our nests?” asked White Hen,
when she had finished her story.

“ Oh — oh !” laughed Towser, “that is a good joke on
you; don’t know your own eggs when you see them.”

“Don’t tell me I laid those fancy-colored eggs,”
said White Hen, looking around to see if any of her
companions were within hearing distance. “I know
I never did.”

“But you did,” said Towser, laughing again. “I
heard the master say to my little mistress, ‘If you
want eggs to color for Easter take the ones that
White Hen laid; they are not so large as the others,
and I cannot sell them so well.’ ”

“Towser, if you will never mention what you have
just told me I will tell you where I saw a great big
bone this morning,” said White Hen. “I was saving
it for myself. I like to pick at one once in a while,
but you shall have it if you promise to keep secret
what you just told me.”

Towser promised, and White Hen showed where it
was hidden.

A few days after Brown Hen said: “I wonder when
master is going to bring out those fancy eggs. If he
leaves them in the house much longer no one will be
able to hatch them.”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you that those eggs were not

54

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

real eggs, after all,” said White Hen, “but only Easter
eggs for the master’s little girl to play with, so we
had all our worry for nothing. Towser told me, but
don’t say a word to him, for I did not let on that we
were worried and didn’t know they were only make-
believe eggs; he thinks he is so wise, you know, it
would never do to let him know how we were fooled.”

WHY THE MORNING-GLORY SLEEPS
NE day the flowers got into a very angry dis-

cussion over the sun, of whom they were very

fond.

“Surely you all must know that he loves me best,”
said the rose. “He shines upon me and makes me
sweeter than any of you, and he gives me the colors
that are most admired by man.”

“I do not see how you can say that,” said the
dahlia. “You may give forth more fragrance than
I can, but you cannot think for a second that you are
more beautiful. Why, my colors are richer than
yours and last much longer! The sun certainly loves
me the best.”

The modest lily looked at the dahlia and said in a
low, sweet voice, “I do not wish to be bold, but I
feel that the sun loves me and that I should let you
know that he gives to me more fragrance than to any
of you.”

/

56

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

“Oh, oh! Hear lily!” said the others in chorus.
“She thinks the king of day loves her best.”

The lily hung her head and said no more, for the
other flowers quite frightened her with their taunts.

“How can any of you think you are the best be-
loved of the sun?” said goldenglow. “When you
behold my glowing color which the sun bestows on
me, do any of you look so much like him as I do?
No, indeed; he loves me best.”

The hollyhock looked down on the others with
pitying glances. “It is plain to be seen that you
have never noticed that the sun shines on me with
more warmth than on you, and now I must tell you
he loves me best and gives me the tenderest of his
smiles. See how tall I am and how gorgeous are my
colors. He loves me best.”

“When it comes to sweetness, I am sure you have
forgotten me,” said the honeysuckle. “Why, the king
of day loves me best, you may be sure! He makes
me give forth more sweetness than any of you.”

“You may be very sweet,” said the pansy, “but
surely you know that my pet name is heart ’s-ease and
that the sun loves me best. To none of you does he
give such velvet beauty as to me. I am nearest his
heart and his best beloved.”

The morning-glory listened to all this with envy in
her heart. She did not give forth sweetness, as many
of the others, neither did she possess the beauty of
the rose or the pansy.

WHY THE MORNING-GLORY SLEEPS 57

“ If only I could get him to notice me,” she thought.
“I am dainty and frail, and I am sure he would admire
me if only he could behold me; but the others are
always here and in such glowing colors that poor little
me is overshadowed by their beauty.”

All day morning-glory thought of the sun and won-
dered how she could attract his attention to herself,
and at night she smiled, for she had thought of a plan.
She would get up early in the morning and greet him
before the other flowers were awake.

She went to bed early that night so that she might
not oversleep in the morning, and when the first streak
of dawn showed in the sky morning-glory opened her
eyes and shook out her delicate folds. The dew was
on her and she turned her face toward the sun.

As soon as she peeped into the garden the sun
beheld her. “How dainty and lovely you are!” he
said. “I have never noticed before the beauty of
your colors, morning-glory,” and he let his warm
glances fall and linger upon her.

The sunflower all this time was watching with
jealous eyes, for she was the one who had always
welcomed the sun, and this morning he seemed to
have entirely forgotten her.

Still sunflower kept her gaze upon them and won-
dered what she could do to win back her king from the
delicate little morning-glory.

But as she looked she saw the morning-glory sway
and nod her head. “She is going to sleep,” said the

58

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

sunflower; “his warm breath makes her drowsy, or
else she was up so early that she cannot keep awake.”

While the sunflower watched, sure enough the
morning-glory nodded and closed her eyes. She was
fast asleep, and the fickle sun, seeing that she no longer
looked upon him, looked away and beheld the sun-
flower looking toward him with longing eyes.

“Good morning, King,” she said, as she caught his
eye, and she was wise enough not to let him know she
had seen him before. So the sun smiled and turned
his face upon them all, and the sunflower kept to
herself what she had seen, knowing full well that she
was the one who knew best how to keep his first
and last glances.

A little later one of the flowers called out: “Look
at morning-glory; she is still sleeping. Let us tell her
it is time to awaken.”

“Morning-glory! morning-glory!” they called, but
she did not answer. She was sound asleep.

“That is strange,” said the rose. “I wonder if
she has gone to sleep never to awake. I have heard
of such things happening.”

After two or three mornings the other flowers ceased
to notice morning-glory, for they thought she had
ceased to be one of them, but the wise sunflower
kept her own counsel. She knew that morning-glory
had to sleep all day in order that she might not miss
the sun; but, as I told you, she was wise enough not
to complain, and she kept his love for her by so doing.

DOROTHY AND THE PORTRAIT

DOROTHY was very fond of her grandmother
and grandfather, and liked to visit them, but
there were no little girls to play with, and sometimes
she was lonely for some one her own age. She would
wander about the house looking for the queer things
that grandmothers always have in their homes. The
hall clock interested Dorothy very much. It stood
on the landing at the top of the stairs, and she used
to sit and listen to its queer tick-tock and watch the
hands, which moved with little nervous jumps. Then
there were on its face the stars and the moon and the
sun, and they all were very wonderful to Dorothy.
One day she went into the big parlor, where there
were pictures of her grandfather and grandmother,
and her great-grandfather and great-grandmother,
also.

Dorothy thought the “greats” looked very sedate,
5

6o

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

and she felt sure they must have been very old to
have been the parents of her grandfather. But the
picture that interested her the most was a large
painting of three children, one a little girl about her
own age, and one other older, and a boy, who wore
queer-looking trousers, cut off below- the knee. His
suit was of black velvet, and he wore white stockings
and black shoes. The little girls were dressed in
white, and their dresses had short sleeves and low
necks. The older girl had black hair, but the one
that Dorothy thought was her age had long, golden
curls like hers, only the girl in the picture wore her
hair parted, and the curls hung all about her face.

Dorothy climbed into a big chair and sat looking
at them. “I wish they could play with me,” she
thought, and she smiled at the little golden-haired
girl. And then, wonderful to tell, the girl in the
picture smiled at Dorothy.

“Oh! are you alive?” asked Dorothy.

“Of course I am,” the little girl replied. “I will
come down, if you would like to have me, and visit
with you.”

“Oh, I should be so glad to have you!” Dorothy
answered.

Then the boy stepped to the edge of the frame, and
from there to the top of a big chair which stood under
the picture, and stood in the chair seat. He held^
out his hand to the little girls and helped them to the
floor in the most courtly manner. Dorothy got out

DOROTHY AND THE PORTRAIT

61

of her chair and asked them to be seated, and the
boy placed chairs for them beside her.

“What is your name?” asked the golden-haired
girl, for she was the only one who spoke.

“That was my name,” she said, when Dorothy
told her. “I lived in this house,” she continued,
“and we used to have such good times. • This is my
sister and my brother.” The little girl and boy
smiled, but they let their sister do all the talking.
“We used to roast chestnuts in the fireplace,” she
said, “and once we had a party in this room, and
played all sorts of games.”

Dorothy could not imagine that quiet room filled
with children.

“Do you remember how we frightened poor old
Uncle Zack in this room?” she said to her brother
and sister, and then they all laughed.

“Do tell me about it,” said Dorothy.

“These glass doors by the fireplace did not have
curtains in our day,” said the little girl, “and there
were shells and other things from the ocean in one
cupboard, and in the other there were a sword and a
helmet and a pair of gauntlets. My brother wrapped
a sheet around him and put on the helmet and the
gauntlets, and, taking the sword in his hand, he
climbed into the cupboard and sat down. We girls
closed the doors and hid behind the sofa. Uncle
Zack came in to fix the fire, and my brother beck-
oned to him. Poor Zack dropped the wood he was

62

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

carrying and fell on his knees, trembling with fright.
The door was not fastened and my brother pushed
it open apd pointed the sword at poor Uncle Zack.

“ ‘Don’ hurt a po’ oT nigger,’ said Zack, very
faintly, ‘I ’ain’ don’ noffin’, ’deed I ’ain’.’

“ ‘You told about the jam the children ate,’ said
my brother, in a deep voice, ‘and you know you
drank the last drop of rum Mammy Sue had for her
rheumatism, and for this you must be punished,’
and he brought the sword down on the floor of the
cupboard with a bang.

“ Poor Uncle Zack fell on his face with fright. This
was too much for my sister and me, and we laughed
out.

“You never saw any one change so quickly as
Uncle Zack. He jumped up and we ran, but my
brother had to get out of his disguise, and Uncle
Zack caught him. He agreed not to tell our father
if we did not tell about his fright, and so we escaped
being punished.”

“Tell me more about your life in this old house,”
said Dorothy, when the little girl finished her story.
But just then the picture of Dorothy’s great-grand-
mother moved and out she stepped from her frame.
She walked with a very stately air toward the children
and put her hand on the shoulder of the little girl
who had been telling the story, and said: “You
better go back to your frame now.”

“Oh dear!” said the little girl. “I did so dislike

DOROTHY AND THE PORTRAIT

6 3

being grown up, and I had forgotten all about it,
when my grown-up self reminds me. That is the
trouble when you are in the room with your grown-
up picture,” she told Dorothy. “You see, I had tp
be so sedate after I married that I never even dared
to think of my girlhood, but you come in here again
some day and I will tell you more about the good
times we had.”

The boy mounted the chair first and helped his
sisters back into the frame. Dorothy looked for her
great-grandmother, but she, too, was back in her
frame, looking as sedate as ever. The next day
Dorothy asked her grandmother who the children
were in the big picture.

“This one,” she said, pointing to the little gold-
en-haired girl, “was your great-grandmother; you
were named for her; and the other little girl and
boy were your grandfather’s aunt and uncle. They
were your great-great-aunt and uncle.”

Dorothy did not quite understand the “great-
great” part of it, but she was glad to know that her
stately-looking great-grandmother had once been a
little girl like her, and some day, when the great-
grandmother’s picture is not looking, she expects to
hear more about the fun the children had in the days
long ago.

MISTRESS PUSSY’S MISTAKE

AVERY kind gentleman, who lived in a big
house which was in the midst of a beautiful
park, had a handsome cat of which he was very fond.
While he felt sure Pussy was fond of him, he knew
very well she would hurt the birds, so he put a pretty
ribbon around Pussy’s neck, and on it a little silver
bell which tinkled whenever she moved and this
warned the birds that she was near.

Pussy resented this, but pretended she did not
care. One day a thrush was singing very sweetly on
the bough of a tree which overhung a small lake.
Pussy walked along under the tree, and, looking up
at the thrush, said: “Madam Thrush, you have a
most beautiful voice, and you are a very handsome
bird. I do wish I were nearer to you, for I am not
so young as I was once, and I cannot hear so well.”
The thrush trilled a laugh at Pussy, and said:

MISTRESS PUSSY’S MISTAKE

65

“Yes, Miss Puss, I can well believe you wish me
nearer, but not to see or hear me better, but that
you might grasp me.”

Pussy pretended not to hear the last remark, but
said: “ My beautiful Thrush, will you not come down
where I can hear you better? I cannot get about as
nimbly as I used to when I was young, or I would
go to you.”

“I cannot sing so well on the ground,” replied the
thrush. “You can come up here, even if you are not
so spry as you were. But tell me, do you not find
the bell you wear very trying to your nerves?”

“Oh no,” answered sly Pussy. “It is so pretty
that I’m glad to wear it, and my master thinks I am
so handsome that he likes to see me dressed well.
And then he can always find me when he hears the
bell. That is why I wear it.”

“I understand,” answered the thrush, “and we
birds are always glad to hear it, too.” And she
trilled another laugh at Pussy and added, “You are
certainly a very handsome creature, Miss Puss.”

Pussy all this time had very slowly climbed the
tree, for she wanted the thrush to think she was old
and slow, but the bird had her bright eyes upon her.
When Pussy reached the branch the thrush was on
she stopped and seated herself.

“Now, my pretty little friend, do sing to me your
loudest song.”

She hoped it would be loud enough to drown the

66

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

tinkle of the bell. The thrush began and was soon
singing very sweetly. Pussy took a very cautious
step and then remained quiet. The thrush stopped
singing and spread her wings.

“Oh, do not stop!” said Puss. “Your song was so
soothing I was in a doze; do sing again.” And she
moved a little closer.

The thrush took a step nearer to the end of the
bough and said: “I am glad you like my voice. I
will sing again if it pleases you so much.”

She began her song, but she kept her eyes on Puss,
and as Puss drew nearer she moved closer to the end
of the swinging bough.

She had reached a very high note when Puss gave
a spring, but the thrush was too quick; she flew out
of Pussy’s reach, and splash went Pussy into the lake,
for she had not noticed that the thrush was moving
to the end of the bough, so intent was she on the
thought of catching her.

Poor Pussy was very wet when she scrambled to
the bank of the lake, and the birds were chirping and
making a great noise.

“How did you like your bath, Miss Puss?” the
thrush called to her. “You should never lay traps
for others, for often you fall into them yourself.”

KID

KID was one of those little boys who seemed to
have grown up on the streets of the big city
where he lived.

He never remembered a mother or a father, and no
one ever took care of him. His first remembrance
was of an old woman who gave him a crust of bread,
and he slept in the comer of her room. One day they
carried her away, and since then Kid had slept in a
doorway or an alley.

By selling papers he managed to get enough to
eat, and if he did not have the money he stole to
satisfy his hunger.

He was often cold and hungry, but he saw many
other children that were in the same condition, and
he did not suppose that any one ever had enough to
eat or a warm place to sleep every night.

Kid went in to the Salvation Army meetings, when

68

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

they held them in his neighborhood, because it was
a place where the wind did not blow, and while there
he heard them sing and talk about Some One who
loved everybody and would help you if only you
would ask Him. Kid was never able to find out just
where this Person lived, and, therefore, he could not
ask for v help.

One day Kid saw a lady who was too well dressed
to belong in his part of the city, and he followed her,
thinking that she might have a pocket-book he could
take. The opportunity did not offer itself, however,
and before Kid realized it he was in a part of the city
he had never seen before.

The buildings were tall and the streets much
cleaner than where he lived. Kid walked along, look-
ing in windows of the stores, when he noticed a lady
standing beside him with a jeweled watch hanging
from her belt.

He had never seen anything so beautiful or so
easy to take, and he waited for a few more people
to gather around the window, and then he care-
fully reached for the watch, and with one pull
off came the trinket, and away ran Kid, like a
deer, with the watch clasped firmly in his begrimed
little hand.

On and on he ran, not knowing where he was
going — nor caring, for that matter — and it seemed to
Kid that the whole world was crying, “Stop, thief!”
and was chasing him.

KID

69

After a while the noise grew fainter and fainter and
he stopped and looked back. There was not a person
in sight.

Kid looked around him. All the houses were large
with clean stone steps in front of them. Kid sat
down on the bottom step of one of these houses and
looked at his treasure.

He held it to his ear and heard its soft tick, then he
looked at the sparkling stones on the case. He
opened it and watched the little hands move, then
he opened the back part, and there was the picture
of a baby, a little boy, Kid thought. Around its
chubby face were curls, and its eyes were large and
eamest-ldoking. Kid sat gazing at it for some
minutes, wondering who it was. When he looked up
he saw a large building across the street with a
steeple on it, and on the top of that a cross.

The door of the building was open, and after a
while Kid walked across the street and up the long,
wide steps. He went in and looked cautiously about.
It was still and no one was to be seen.

There were two doors, and Kid went to one of them
and pushed it open. He thought for a minute he
was dreaming, for he did not suppose that anything
so grand could be real.

There were rpws and rows of seats, and at the very
end of the big room Kid saw a light. He walked down
one of the aisles to where the little flame was burning,
and stood in front of the altar.

70

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

Kid looked at everything with a feeling of awe,
but he had not the slightest idea bf what it all meant,
and he wondered who lived in this beautiful house,
and thought it strange that no one appeared and
told him to go out.

There were pictures on the wall and Kid came to
one of a sweet-faced lady who was holding a little
child. Kid started and stepped back as he looked at
it. “It is the baby in the watch,” he said.* “This
must be where he lives and that is his mother.”
Some one was coming. He was caught at last, he felt
sure. He slid into a pew and crawled under the seat
and kept very still — so still, in fact, that he fell asleep.
When he awoke a light was burning in the church
and its rays fell across the picture of the mother
and child in such a way that the eyes of the
mother seemed to be looking straight at Kid under
the seat.

For the first time in his life he felt like crying.
“I wish I had a mother,” he thought, “and I should
like to have her hold me in her arms just as that
little boy’s mother is holding him. I would tell her
about this watch and perhaps she would tell me how
to get it back to the lady.”

Kid crept from under the seat and stood up, and
coming toward him down the aisle was a man. Kid
thought he wore a queer-looking costume, and he
dodged back of the seat; but the man had seen him
and there was no use in trying to run away; besides

KID

7i

that, Kid was not at all sure that he wished to get
away.

“Is this your house?” asked Kid, when the man
came up to him.

“No, my son,” he replied; “this is the house of
God.”

Kid’s heart leaped for joy; that was the name of
the One the Salvation Army people told him about,
who loved everybody and helped you.

“If you please,” said Kid, “I should like to see
Him.”

The good man looked at Kid very earnestly, and
then he said, “If you will tell me what you wish to
see Him about, I am sure I can help you.”

Kid told him about the watch and that he felt sure
the lady lived there, as the baby in the big picture
was very much like the picture in the watch. “And
if this is God’s house,” said Kid, “I thought He
might be the father and forgive me. I am very
sorry that I took it.”

The good man took Kid by the hand. “ Come with
me,” he said; “you are forgiven, I am sure.”

Kid was given a good supper, and for the first time
in his life he slept in a real bed.

The next day the good man found the owner of
the watch, and when she heard Kid’s story she
forgave him.

Kid was placed in a school, where he learned to be
a good boy, as well as to be studious, and he soon

72

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

forgot the old life. He grew to be a man of whom
any mother could have been proud. But the only
mother Kid ever knew was the mother of the little
boy in the picture, which he cherishes as a thing
sacred in his life.

THE SHOEMAKER RAT
NE day a rat gnawed his way into a pantry, and

W after he had eaten all he wanted he grew bold
and went into the kitchen.

There the cook saw him and chased him with a
broom, but, not being able to hit him as he ran out
of the door, she picked up a pair of shoes that were
standing near and threw them after him.

The rat picked them up and put them on. On his
way home he met a cat. “What have you on your
feet?” he asked the rat.

“Can you not see, my dear Tom?” said the rat.
“They are shoes. I am a shoemaker, and, of course,
must wear my own product.”

“Make me a pair,” said the cat, “and I will spare
your life.”

“Very well,” replied the rat, “but first you must
bring me some leather.”

So the cat ran away and brought back two hides.

74

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

When the rat saw the amount of leather he was
struck with an idea. “My dear Tom,” he said, “I
can make you a suit of clothes and a pair of gloves
as well as the shoes, and you will be the envy of all
the other cats.”

Tom was delighted and told the rat to hurry and
make the outfit.

The wise rat first made the gloves and covered
Tom’s sharp claws. Then he made the shoes for the
hind feet, and when he had that done he felt safe.

“Now you must wait,” he said,* “until I get some-
thing with which I can fasten the coat.” He ran
away and returned with some long, sharp thorns.

Next the rat put the leather around Tom’s body
and drew it tight, fastening it with a thorn which
he pushed so that the sharp point pricked Tom.

“What are you doing?” asked Tom, angry at being
hurt; but he could not move, the leather costume
was so stiff and tight, but he grabbed at the rat with
his mouth, and caught him by the tail.

The rat ran, leaving his tail in Tom’s mouth.

“I’ll know you,” Tom called after him. “When I
am out of this suit I will catch you and eat you.”

The rat had not thought of that and he wondered
what he should do, but he was a wise old fellow, and
when he reached home he called all his brothers and
sisters and cousins and aunts about him.

“I met a cat to-day,” he said, “who had been to
the city where all the styles are new, and he told me

THE SHOEMAKER RAT

75

that all the city rats are having their tails cut off, so
I had mine done. If you want to be in style,” he
told them, “you must have your tails like mine.”

“Does it hurt?” asked one.

“Not a bit,” answered the sly fellow, “and you
have no idea how comfortable it is running about
without a tail to look after. It is very expensive to
have it cut,” he explained; “that is the only difficult
part. I had to pay twenty pieces of cheese. But I
watched while another fellow was having his cut, and
I am sure I can do it as well as the rat that did mine.
And if you wish to be in style at a very low rate I will
take off your tails for five pieces of cheese each.”

The rats all agreed, and ran away to get the cheese,
and while they were gone the wise rat ran for a chop-
ping-knife.

Soon he had the tails cut and a goodly store of
cheese. “Now,” he said to himself, “Tom will never
know me from the other rats.”

He kept his eyes open for Tom, who had called his
friends to help him out of his suit and told them to
watch for a rat without a tail. But when they saw
all the tailless rats they gave up looking for one who
had put Tom into the suit of leather, and Tom, not
liking to hunt any too well, gave it up also. “But
the next time I meet a rat,” said Tom, “I will catch
him, no matter whether he has a tail or not.”

6

THE POPPIES

ALONG distance from here, in a far Eastern
country, there once lived a very rich king.
All kings are not rich, you know, but this one was,
and his jewels were the most beautiful ever seen.

But this king dearly loved all the good things of
this world and gave feasts and dances that lasted for
days without any one sleeping. Of course he could
not lead such a life as that and have good health,
and at last there came a time when the king could
not sleep.

At last he offered a reward to any one who could
put him to sleep, no matter how it was accomplished.
He said to the one who could do this he would give
half his kingdom.

The poor king was the subject for many experi-
ments, and when he had almost given up hope of ever
sleeping again there came a strange-looking man to

THE POPPIES

77

the gate of the castle. He wore a turban and a long,
flowing robe of white, and wore around his neck
many chains and strings of queer-looking beads.

“I can make the king sleep,” he said, “but I must
be allowed to have the grounds of the castle to myself
and the king must obey me in every way.”

The king was ready to do anything, and so the
strange-looking man began his work, but before he
would do anything for the king he insisted upon
having half the kingdom given into his hands, and
when this was done he set to work. No one was
allowed to be near him, and the king was left alone
in the castle with him.

One morning, not long after, the king saw what
looked to be a sea of green all around the castle,
but it really was a bed of green leaves, and soon
there appeared white flowers among the leaves,
and then the strange man told the king to walk
among them.

Soon the king felt a drowsy feeling stealing over
him, and he sat down in the midst of the sea of green
and in a few minutes he was sound asleep.

Then the strange man began to repeat something
in a sing-song tone and wave his hands over the
sleeping king. He walked among the leaves and
flowers, repeating his queer rhyme, and the leaves
and flowers grew taller and taller until the king
could not be seen, and the man moved away, still
chanting :

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THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

“Poppy, poppy, flower of sleep,

Your drowsy spell around him keep,

For I can all his kingdom take
If you do not let him wake.”

The poppies grew until they reached the top of
the castle, and every one who went near to look for
the king fell under the spell of their strange power
until the people around gave it up and the strange
man became king ; he built a new castle and the old
one was forgotten.

All went well with the new king until a young man
called at his castle and asked him about the old king,
and the servants told him how the strange flowers
had grown around the castle and no one could go
near, and that every one thought that the old king
was dead.

The new king, when he heard that the stranger was
asking for the old king, had him driven from the castle.

“Tell your master,” said the stranger to the ser-
vants, “that he will hear from me again.”

The stranger went into the woods, where there
lived an old witch, and at midnight they came out
and went to the castle among the strange flowers.

The witch held her hands high over her head and
waved them up and down, saying all the time:

“Poppy, poppy, sleepy flower,

Now I have you in my power.

I would have you shorter grow
Until the sleeping one you show.”

THE POPPIES

79

Down came the tall flowers and bushes until the
young man cried out, “Here he is,” and then the
flowers ceased to grow small. The witch knelt beside
the sleeping king and whispered in his ear:

“Awake, good king, ’tis break of day,

And drive the false king far away.”

The king opened his eyes and looked at the witch
and the young man beside her. “What has hap-
pened?” he asked.

“I will leave you to tell him,” said the witch.
“The sun is up and I must go.”

“When you offered to give half your kingdom to
the one who could make you sleep,” said the young
man, “I set out for your castle with a box which
contained a strange flower that had the power to
make people sleep, but it had to be used with
the greatest care, and I alone knew the secret of
using it, for it was given to my grandmother by an
old witch doctor.

“Before I could reach you I was overtaken by a
band of robbers and the box stolen. They made me
tell what I intended doing with the flower, on pain of
death, but I did not tell the whole secret. Then they
put me in a cave and rolled a stone in front of it too
heavy for me to move, and left. I was almost dead
from starvation when I was found by some peasants,
who nursed me until I was well enough to travel,
when I hurried here, only to find that one of the band

8o

THE . SANDMAN’S HOUR

of robbers had taken your whole kingdom after put-
ting you to sleep with the charmed flower.

“He drove me from the castle when he heard that
I was asking for you, and if it had not been for the
witch who lives in the wood I should not have been
able to awaken you. She knew the secret, as she is the
daughter of; the witch who gave the flower to my
grandmother.”

When the king heard the strange story he hurried
with the young man to the castle where the robber
king lived. He was asleep .when they arrived, and
the servants, who did not like their new master, ran
out to meet the old king, and when they heard what
had happened they went back to the castle and
bound the robber while he slept, and when he awoke
he was so frightened that he promised to tell where
the rest of his band could be found if they would
spare his life.

This they promised to do, and the country was rid
of these bad men, for they were put on a ship and
made to work the rest of their lives.

The king was so grateful to the young man who
rescued him that he made him his heir, and when the
king died he left him his kingdom.

LITTLE CHINA DOLL

IN a shop window sat a little China Doll. She had
been in the store so long she could not remember
ever living in any other place.

Long, long ago there were other china dolls, but
one by one some little girl had carried them away
and she was left alone. China Doll had black painted
hair and big, staring eyes, and her lips and cheeks
were very red. Her body was filled with sawdust
and her hands and arms to the elbow were china, as
were her feet and legs to her knees.

By and by wax dolls came to the store; they had
real hair, all curls, and eyes that would open and
close, and poor China Doll was set back in the
window, and after a while she was put in a box on
the shelf and taken out only once a year — at Christ-
mas-time— when she was dusted and put in the
window again. She felt very lonely with so many
stylish wax dolls, and as she had given up hope of

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THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

ever being chosen by any little girl, she was glad when
the little old lady who kept the store put her back
in the box on the shelf.

At last there came a time when the children no
longer came to the store, but went to the big city
for their toys, and China Doll and the little old store-
keeper grew old together.

China Doll sat in the window all the time now,
with tape and thread and other useful things, but
was the only thing little folk could want.

One day in summer a tally-ho stopped in front
of the store, and a party of young people came in.
They bought a number of things and filled the
old store with their laughter. Suddenly the pret-
tiest girl reached into the window and took out
China Doll. “Oh, you dear, quaint little doll!” she
said. “My grandmother has one just like this, girls,
and I have asked her many times to give it to me to
make a French pincushion, but she will not let me
have it.”

Oh, how China Doll’s heart beat! Could it be true
that she was going at last? Yes, the pretty girl
bought her and took her away on the tally-ho.

The next day she dressed China Doll in the prettiest
silk dress, such a one as she had dreamed of years
ago, with an overskirt and puffed sleeves. Then she
made her the dearest poke-bonnet trimmed with
little roses. She also made her a pair of kid boots.

When China Doll was all dressed the pretty girl

LITTLE CHINA DOLL

83

put a ribbon over her arm, and on each end was a
little bandbox. Then she stood China Doll on her
dressing-table and used the little boxes for pincush-
ions. And there China Doll lived a very happy life,
which teaches that all things come to those who wait.

THE DISORDERLY GIRL

LOUISE was just going out of the door with her
/ sled when her mother called to her. Louise
hesitated, for she knew that her mother was calling
her to make her play-room tidy and she wanted to go
coasting with the other children.

She went back slowly and asked, “What is it,
mother?”

“Your play-room must be put in order before you
can go out to play,” her mother replied. “You have
had plenty of time this week to do it, but you have
neglected it, and now you cannot put it off another
day.”

“Why can’t Jane do it?” asked Louise.

“Jane will clean the room,” her mother replied,
“but it is your duty to pick up the books and toys
that are strewn around.”

Louise pouted, but she knew that she must do as
her mother said, and she took off her hat and coat

THE DISORDERLY GIRL

85

and went up to her play-room. She went in and
closed the door. It certainly was a very disorderly-
looking room. Books were on the floor and games
were on the table, doll clothes were strewn in all
parts of the room.

Louise had picked up most of the things when she
saw from the window her little friend Clara passing
the house. “Clara!” she called, “wait for me, I have
to put my play-room in order before I can go coast-
ing.” But Clara would not wait.

Louise closed the window, threw herself on the
couch, and began to cry, saying she thought it was
mean everybody was going coasting but her.

All at once she saw two little girls walking toward
her. They looked just like her dolls — Bella and Emily
— only they were as large as herself.

Louise tried to get up, but she was unable to move.

“Let us undress her,” said Bella Doll, coming over
to Louise and lifting her by one arm.

“Yes,” said Emily Doll, “and comb her hair.”

Then Louise knew what had happened — she had
turned into a doll and the dolls had become little
girls.

The doll girls undressed Louise and put on her
nightdress, pulling it over her head in the most care-
less manner, Louise thought. Then they combed her
hair, pulling it terribly.

“I wonder how she likes to have her hair pulled,”
said Bella Doll.

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THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

“She knows how it feels, now,” said Emily.

“I think she better go out,” said Bella Doll, “in-
stead of going to bed,” and they dressed her in a thin
white dress. “Now we will take her out in the cold;
that is the way she does with us.”

They fastened her clothes with pins and pushed
them right through her body, and after she was
dressed they changed their minds about taking her
out and threw her on the floor and began playing
games.

“I wonder if they are going to leave me here,”
thought Louise. “Some one will be sure to step on
me.” Just then she saw a Teddy Bear lying on his
side under the couch. “Why are you under there?”
Louise asked.

“The little girl who was playing with me dropped
me back of the couch a week ago,” he said, “and I
have been here ever since, and you will probably
remain on the floor where you are now, for she never
picks up her toys. She is a very careless girl.”

Louise did not reply, for just then Emily Doll came
over to the couch for a book and pushed Louise out
of the way with her foot. Bella Doll set out a croquet
set and one of the balls hit Louise on the head. Then
Emily dropped her book and said: “Come along,
Bella, let us go outdoors.”

Louise watched them as they went out. “Oh,
this is the way she always leaves her room,” said
Teddy Bear, for he could not see from under the

THE DISORDERLY GIRL

87

couch there were two little girls, and thought it was
Louise who went out of the door. “She never thinks
of us,” the Teddy Bear continued, “or how uncom-
fortable we may be, for she is a very careless and
untidy girl.”

The door opened and Bella Doll came in. She went
over to the couch for her hat and Louise saw her foot
over her head. “She will break me if she steps on
me,” cried poor Louise, and she jumped up as she
cried aloud. There she was on the couch. She had
been asleep. She got up and finished her work, when
suddenly she thought of the Teddy Bear, and looked
under the couch. There he was on his side just as
she had seen him in her dream. Louise picked him
up and set him in a chair; then she looked at Bella’s
clothes to make sure there were no pins pricking her,
and after looking at Emily also she put both of them
in a comfortable place. Her books were put on a
shelf, and she resolved never again to let her room get
so untidy or to let her dolls or Teddy Bear suffer
from neglect. “Perhaps they do feel things,” she
said. “Anyway, I’ll be sure not to hurt them or let
them be in uncomfortable positions, for I was very
miserable lying on the floor thinking I might be
stepped upon.”

THE WISE OLD GANDER
NCE there lived a farmer who was not a good

V-/ caretaker. He did not have a house for the hens
and chickens and geese and ducks, and Old Fox, who
lived in a hole over the hill, never had any trouble in
getting a nice goose or a fat hen for his supper or
breakfast.

“Something must be done at once,” said Madam
Goose. “There will be no one left in the whole yard
if this keeps on. Why, only last night Madam Gray
Hen was carried off and she has left all those little
chicks; it is really too awful to think of.”

“But what can we do?” asked Gray Goose. “The
rooster does not know, for I heard one of his family
ask him, and he only said the master should take
better care of us.”

“So he should,” replied Madam Goose, “but he
doesn’t, so we must care for ourselves unless we wish

THE WISE OLD GANDER 89

to be carried off, too. Let us go to the gander; he
may be able to help us.”

“Come with us,” they called to the rooster and
black hen who were talking together; “we are going
to see the gander and ask him to help us to be rid of
Old Fox over the hill.”

The gander stretched out his neck and blinked his
eyes as he listened to their tale of woe.

“You are right, something must be done,” he said;
“and you are quite right in coming to me also. I
will think over the matter and give you my advice
later.”

“Later!” screamed Madam Goose. “Later there
will be no need for advice; there will be no one to
give it or to advise. What we need is advice at once,
and something that will rid us of Old Fox under the
hill. He is eating the whole yard, one by one.”

“Well, well,” answered the gander, standing on
one foot and then on the other. “I will think over
the matter for a short time and then tell you my
decision. You know, my dear madam, that great
minds must have quiet to think out important
matters. Leave me, I beg of you all, for a little while.”

As soon as the gander was alone he waddled over
to the pig-pen. “Mr. Pig,” he said, “I am going to
ask your advice. Old Fox over the hill is carrying
off all the fowls and something must be done.”

“Ugh, ugh,” grunted the pig. “I can tell you
what will frighten him away. I will stay awake to-

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THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

night and grunt at him; he will know better than to
linger where I am.”

“Thank you, thank you, Mr. Pig,” said the gander,
backing away from the pig-pen. “I will tell my
friends, and I am sure they will feel safe to-night.”

“Conceited fellow,” said the gander. “I guess it
will take more than his grunts to scare that foxy
fellow.”

Then he went to the donkey. “He isn’t very
wise,” thought the gander, “but sometimes those
who have the least wisdom speak wisdom without
knowing it.

“Mr. Donkey, I have come to ask your advice.
Old Fox is carrying off our hens and geese. Something
must be done to stop him, or soon there will be none
left.”

“Quite so; quite so. I see; I see, Mr. Gander,”
said the donkey. “You have come to the right place
for advice. Now go back to your friends and tell
them to have no fear; I will take the matter in hand.”

“But what are you going to do?” asked the gander.

“Why, my dear sir, I am going to bray at Old Fox
when he comes. I am going to bray at him, and you
will see he will not stay long when he hears my
commanding voice.”

“Oh, how can I ever thank you?” said the gander,
walking away. “I will tell my friends at once that
yoq. will take care of them to-night.”

“Foolish old donkey,” said the gander to himself.

THE WISE OLD GANDER

9i

“I guess Old Fox has heard a donkey bray before
this. I’ll try the cow next.

“ Madam Cow, Old Fox is carrying off all the fowls,
one by one, and if something is not done at once to
stop him, there will be none of us left. What would
you advise?”

“Oh, don’t ask me, Mr. Gander,” said the cow.
“All I can do is to moo, and Old Fox would no more
mind that than the wind blowing. I wish I were wise
enough to advise you, but I am not. But if I can
help you in any way let me know.”

“Thank you, Madam Cow,” said the gander,
waddling away. “You may hear from me. We never
can tell when we shall need the help of our friends.”

The next one the gander visited was the cat.

“Can you help me, Madam Puss?” began the
gander. “We fowls are all in trouble; Old Fox carries
off one or more of our number every night, and some-
thing must be done to stop it at once.”

The cat opened her mouth very wide and yawned,
and the gander wondered if he had been wise, after all,
in asking her for advice in this matter.

But Puss closed her mouth with a snap and sat up.

“Of course I can help you,” she said. “Did you
ever see my claws?”

The gander backed away as Puss held them up to
his view.

The gander confessed that he had not and Puss
went on: “Well, leave it to me to protect the bam-
7

92

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

yard; that dog Rover never seems to think about
anything but eating and sleeping. I will yowl and
spit at Old Fox when he comes to-night, and I can
tell you and your friends he will not come again.”

“Thank you, thank you, Madam Puss,” said the
gander, running away.

“My, but that was a narrow escape for me!” said
the gander. “She positively looks awful when she
opens her mouth. I seem to be getting advice, but
not the kind that will save my friends; they all feel
sure they can scare Old Fox, but not one of them will
be able to; I don’t know that all of them together
would — ”

The gander stopped still and held up his head. “ I
have it,” he said, “I have the very plan; I will get
them all together and each shall do his part. I be-
lieve we can scare Old Fox away for good and all
time.”

The gander went to the dog and he promised to
bark. “Of course, there is no need of having the
others around if I do that,” said the dog. “But bring
them along if you like; every little helps.”

That night the donkey, the dog, the cat, the cow,
and the pig were gathered in the barnyard; each
one protested that the others were not needed, all
but the cow; she was modest, and said she would
help. Then the rooster came and offered to crow
and the geese were to quack.

“Now you all must hide,” said the gander, “and

THE WISE OLD GANDER

93

don’t move until Old Fox gets right in the middle of
the yard; then jump up and do your worst.”

Old Fox waited until it was very late, and then
crept over the hill and up to the farm. He listened,
and, hearing no sound, he crept into the barnyard.
He was just about to reach a fat goose when all the
animals began. The dog barked, the pig squealed,
the donkey brayed, the cow mooed, the geese quacked,
the rooster crowed, and Puss, true to her word, yowled
and sprang at Old Fox, who was so frightened at the
terrible noise he forgot to run until Puss struck at
him with her sharp claws ; then he took to his swiftest
speed, and away he went over the hill and far away,
and was never again seen near that farm.

He told some of his friends that a most horrible
animal lived there and must have eaten all the hens
and geese and was big enough to eat them, for he
saw at least twenty feet and claws and heads of all
sizes.

DINAH CAT AND THE WITCH
NCE upon a time there was a little girl named

Betty. She was an orphan, and a bad landlord
turned her out of her home. The only friend she
had was a black cat named Dinah. Betty was
crying as she walked along the road, and Dinah
Cat ran beside her, rubbing against her feet. All
at once she ran in front of Betty and stood on
her hind legs. “Do not cry, mistress.” she said.
“I’ll take care of you.”

Betty was so surprised to hear Dinah Cat speak
that she stopped crying at once. “You poor Dinah
Cat,” she said, “what can you do? We must go to
the city, and if I can find work we shall be able to
live; if not, you must take care of yourself, for you
can catch mice and keep from starving.”

‘You come with me, mistress,” answered Dinah
Cat, “and you will not need to work and you will
not starve.” And she put out her paw for Betty to

DINAH CAT AND THE WITCH

95

take and walked alongside her. When they came to
a path leading into the wood Dinah Cat led Betty
along this path until they were in front of two very
large trees which had grown together, but there was
a big opening in the trunk. “We’ll go in here,” said
Dinah Cat, and as they stepped through they were
in a hall. She led Betty up the stairs to a room where
there was a snowy- white bed and pretty furnishings.
“Dinner will be served as soon as you are dressed,
mistress,” said Dinah Cat.

After she had gone Betty looked around, and in
the closets she found pretty dresses which just fitted
her. She put on one of them, and in a few minutes
she was ready for dinner. Just then she heard a soft,
scratching noise at the door, and when she opened it
Dinah Cat walked in.

“How do you like your new home, mistress?”
she asked.

“Very much,” Betty answered. “But we cannot
live in such a nice house. We have no money, and,
besides that, this house must belong to some one.
And this dress I have on must belong to some little
girl. I should not wear it.”

“The dress did belong to a little girl,” said Dinah
Cat, “but she cannot wear it now, and she wants
you to have it. And do not fret about the house. It
belongs to me. I cannot tell you any more just now,
but you need not worry any more about anything,
for you are to live here, if you wish, after you have

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THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

dinner, for then you will meet a boy, and you may
not like him.”

Dinah Cat led Betty into a room where the table
was set for three persons, and when they were seated
a boy about Betty’s age came in and sat with them.
He wore his hat, and a thick veil hung from it.

“I am sorry I cannot remove my hat,” he said, in
a very sweet voice, “and I will go away if you’d rather
I would.”

“Oh no,” said Betty, feeling very much like an
intruder. “I am very grateful to you for letting me
stay, and I will help to do the work.”

“You do not need to work,” said the boy. “If
you will stay we will be very glad.”

Betty did not once get a glimpse of his face, he
lifted the veil so carefully. And there sat Dinah Cat,
using her knife and fork like any lady. Betty smiled
to herself when she thought of her eating from a
saucer.

Suddenly Dinah Cat slid out of her chair and
crawled under it, and the little boy trembled so that
his chair shook. Betty looked around to find the
cause of their strange behavior, and saw standing in
the doorway an old woman with a staff in her hand.
She hobbled over to where Dinah Cat sat and raised
the staff. Betty thought she was going to strike her.

“Don’t you hurt Dinah Cat!” she cried, running
toward the old witch, who was so startled that she
dropped the staff, and Betty picked it up.

DINAH CAT AND THE WITCH

97

“Don’t let her have it again,’’ said the boy; “that
is the cause of all our trouble.’’

Betty threw the staff in a closet and locked the door.
All this time the witch was stepping backward toward
the door by which she entered, and she grew smaller
with each step. By the time she was out of the house
she looked like a black speck, and a breeze blowing
just then carried her out of sight. “But how shall
we ever be ourselves again?” said the boy. “She
has gone, and here we are, in this state.”

“Perhaps the stick will do it,” said Dinah Cat.

Betty wondered what they meant, and the boy told
her that Dinah Cat was his sister before the witch
changed her into a cat, and made his face so hideous
that he had to wear a veil, and they had lived very
happily together. “But one day the old witch came
and wanted to live with us, and we let her for a while,
but she was so cross and made us so unhappy we told
her she must go away. Then she brought all this
change upon us, and every once in a while she re-
turns and frightens us, for we do not know what she
will change us into next.”

“Let me get the stick,” said Betty. “Perhaps we
can change Dinah Cat to your sister again.”

Betty opened the door of the closet, and instead of
the stick there was a bright streak of light, and walk-
ing on it was a little Fairy who held a wand in her
hand.

“You will soon be happy again,” she told them.

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THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

“I have destroyed the stick and the old witch will
never return.”

Then she walked over to Dinah Cat and touched
her with her wand and there stood a little girl about
Betty’s age in place of the black cat.

“Now close your eyes,” said the Fairy, “for I
want the boy to remove his veil, and his face is not
pleasant to look upon.”

Betty did as the Fairy told her, but I am sorry to
tell you that she peeked a very little. Betty closed
her eyes tight after the first glimpse and waited for
the Fairy to tell her to open them again, and when
she did there stood the boy with a very smiling face.
His sister ran to him and put her arms around him.
“Now we shall be happy,” she said, “and Betty will
live with us. How can we thank you?” she asked
the Fairy.

“Oh, I shall be repaid by seeing you all happy,”
the Fairy replied. “And now I must go.”

“Will we see you again?” asked Betty.

“No,” answered the Fairy. “I only appear when
people are in trouble, and you will never need me
again.”

THE STAR AND THE LILY
NCE there bloomed in a garden a beautiful white

V_y lily, on a long stalk so tall that she towered over
all the flowers that bloomed near her.

Of course, the sunflowers at the back of the garden
were much taller and the hollyhocks that grew in
front of the sunflowers were taller, too, and also the
sweet peas. But they were not near the beautiful
lily. Beside her bloomed pansies and poppies, and
many other beautiful flowers, but they were not so
tall as the lily.

A rose-bush growing near the lily noticed that she
drooped and did not look as happy as usual one
morning, and she asked what had happened.

“Oh, I am thinking of some one I love,” answered
the lily, with a sigh.

“That should not bring a sigh or make you look

IOO

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

sad, my fair friend,” said the rose. “Love should
make you happier than anything else in the world.”

“Yes, I suppose it should,” answered the lily,
“but my love is so far away I am not sure that I am
loved in return.”

“Oh, immodest lily!” said the rose. “I thought
you the most modest of all of us, and here you are in
love with some one you do not know. Tell me about
it, do?” said the rose, alert with interest.

“I will tell you, dear rose,” said the lily, “and per-
haps you can tell me how to win the love of my
beloved, or how I can overcome my great love for
him.”

“I will do anything I can for you, my dear,” said
the rose, “but do tell me quick all about your love-
story.”

“One night,” began the lily, “when everything was
quiet in the garden and all the other flowers were
fast asleep, I happened to raise my head and open
my petals. The moonlight was streaming .over the
garden, and I looked around at all the sleeping flowers
and wondered how I happened to awake at that hour,
when, looking up to see the moon in all her splendor,
I beheld a beautiful star looking down at me.

“At first I thought it was looking at the whole
garden, but then I knew all the others were asleep
and I must be the one it was smiling at, for it twinkled
and brightened as I gazed at it.

“I lowered my head and slyly looked again, and

THE STAR AND THE LILY

IOI

still the star was looking, and every time it saw me
raise my head it would twinkle a smile at me. The
next night I wanted to make sure it was I that the
star really smiled at, and when it was bedtime I only
bowed my head and did not sleep.

“Then when the garden was still and I was sure
you all slept I again raised my head and saw my
star smiling straight down at me.

“This time I was sure I was the only one that the
star could be smiling at, and I raised my head and
opened my petals and let all the perfume of my heart
go up to him, and I did not feel that I was bold, for
we were all alone and he smiled down upon me, his
love for two nights.

“But now I am sorrowful, for it is day and I cannot
see my beloved. He seems only to show his love for
me at night. What shall I do, dear rose? I am not
strong enough to stay awake all day and all night
too. Soon I will die if I do, and yet I cannot live iiw
I do not see my star each night. That is why I sigh
and look so sad, for I might sleep all night some time
and my star will think I do not love him.”

The rose shook her head. “I cannot advise you,
my friend,’' she said; “you are in love with some one
far above you, and are not even sure you are loved in
return. Be wise and sleep through the night as the
rest of us do, and give up this uncertain lover.”

But the lily only drooped her head and sighed, and
that night looked for her lover again, but the sky was

102

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

dark and no bright smile greeted the poor lily. All
night she gazed into the dark sky, and when the first
light of day came she was still looking for her lover.

The rose looked at her when the sun came upon
them that morning, but the lily did not raise her
head; she was too full of sorrow to lift her face to the
sun, and by and by the rose saw that she was droop-
ing lower and lower, so she spoke to her.

“Lily,” she said, leaning closer to her, “raise your
head and let the sun cheer you. You will die if you
do not open your petals and get the light and air.”

But the poor lily was past caring for sun or air; her
petals were limp and her stalk withered.

The rose leaned closer to her as she faintly an-
swered, and this is what she heard:

“Good-by, my friend; I shall bloom no more. My
bright star hid his face from me last night and I
have no desire to live longer. Perhaps I may see
him after I am gone from here, and if that is true I
shall be happy, but I cannot live here and not see his
face.”

The wind blew through the garden just then and
took the lily from her stem, scattering her petals far
out of the garden.

“Poor lily!” murmured the rose, “she went the
way we all will go, but her heart was broken and she
died before her time. If she had only looked for love
here in the garden instead of looking so far above her
she might be blooming now, poor lily.”

LAZY GRAY

JL the other squirrels called him Lazy Gray,

which was really not a very nice name for a
squirrel to have, but it fitted this squirrel, and I am
going to tell you how he came to be called by such
an unpleasant name.

When Lazy Gray was born there were three little
squirrels in his family, but he was the youngest and
his mother thought he was the prettiest, and all the
rest of the family used to wait on him a great deal,
and his mother did not ask him to do errands or to
climb trees or any other of the hard tasks that most
squirrels have to do. And Lazy Gray took advantage
of the kindness of his mother and his brothers and sis-
ter, and used to ask them to wait on him. When he
was thirsty and wanted a drink of water he would
call to his mother and say, “I am thirsty”; and she
would take a nutshell and go down to the brook and

104

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

fill it with nice cool water and bring it to him for him
to drink. And sometimes he wouldn’t even say
“Thank you” when he had finished.

And he used to make his brothers go on long
journeys through the woods to get a particular kind
of nut of which he was very fond; and if they hap-
pened to bring him one that was not good he would
find fault with them and tell them that they did not
know good nuts from bad ones.

All through the summer he fooled away his time
sleeping and lying in the sun and never a single nut did
he gather for himself. But when fall came and his
two brothers were taken ill, his mother said that he
would have to help her gather nuts because she could
not gather enough to last the whole family through
all the long winter. Lazy thought it was very hard
that he should be called upon to work for his brothers
even if they were sick, and he complained very bit-
terly about how hard it was for him to climb trees
all day and store nuts. Whenever he could he stole
away and lay down behind a rock and kept hidden
until his mother came and found him. And then she
would tell how, when it got cold and there was snow
all over the ground and he was hungry, he would wish
that he had been a good squirrel and had gathered
the nuts while he could.

But he did not believe her and said, “Oh, I have
gathered all the nuts I shall want and am not going to
work any more,” and then he would go to sleep again.

LAZY GRAY

105

Weeks passed by, and it grew colder and colder and
the snow came, and all the squirrels began to draw
on their stores of nuts. Lazy found that he got pretty
hungry sometimes and that the habit of eating and
drinking all he wanted in the summer made him want
to eat and drink all he wanted in the winter. And
as he had never taught himself self-denial, he ate all
he wanted, and very early in the winter he began to
see that the nuts he had gathered would not last him
half-way through the winter, and almost before he
knew it his whole store was exhausted and he had
nothing to eat.

Then he asked his mother to let him have some
of the nuts that she had gathered, and being a kind
mother, she let him have just as many as she could,
but she still had to keep some for his sick brothers.
When she would not give him all he thought he ought
to have he decided that he would go over to a neigh-
boring tree and ask a squirrel over there for some of
his nuts, and for weeks he went from one tree to
another begging nuts, until every squirrel in the woods
hated to see him coming, for they knew he was going
to beg food that he should have gathered for himself.

At last he became so much of a nuisance that all
the squirrels in the wood held a meeting and decided
that each one of them would give two nuts to “Lazy, ”
as they now all called him, and that he would have to
live for the rest of the winter on the store they con-
tributed or else starve.

io6

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

When Lazy saw what a small store of nuts he would
have to live upon until spring he was frightened, for
he had eaten almost as many nuts as there were there
in a week.

But he knew he had to make them last, so he ate
very sparingly, and his sides began to be less plump
and his cheeks less full, and by springtime he was a
pretty sorry-looking squirrel, with his ribs showing
plainly through his sides and his bushy tail looking
bigger than the whole of the rest of him.

But it taught him a good lesson, and early in the
next summer, just as soon as there were any nuts to
be had, he began to store them away, and when winter
came again he had a big hole in the tree filled full and
his mother was much pleased.

“You see,” she told him, “how wicked it is not to
provide for the future and store up things that are
necessary against the time when you will need them.”

And Lazy agreed with her and told her that never
again so long as he lived would he merit the name of
“Lazy.”

THE OLD GRAY HEN
H, dear!” said the Old Gray Hen, “what a life

V-/ this is ! Up in the morning at the break of day
in answer to the summons of that crowing rooster;
scratch all the forenoon for worms; sit on a nest
and leave a beautiful egg there, and in half an hour
along comes somebody and takes the egg and I never
see it again. Then every spring I am put on a lot of
eggs that I never saw before and am supposed to
sit there until a brood of chickens are hatched out,
and then for weeks I have to scratch for them as
well as for myself. I don’t see anything in this sort
of life, and I propose to change it until it is more to
my liking and more as the life of such a fine hen as
I am ought to be.”

Old Daddy Gander happened along just as the
Gray Hen finished talking to herself. “What’s the
trouble this morning?” he asked. “Why all this
sputtering and spluttering? One would think that

8

108 THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

the whole barnyard had turned upside down and the
com had all fallen off into the sky.”

“There’s matter enough,” said Gray Hen. “What
have we fowls to live for? I scratch and you waddle
and you waddle and I scratch, and what does it all
amount to? Something has got to be done, and, if
no one else will do it, why, I shall. Things are going
to be different with me.”

“I guess I’ll keep on as I am,” said old Daddy
Gander as he waddled away. “I mighty make them
worse than they are, and they are not so bad, any-
way.”

“Good morning, Gray Hen,” said Madam Duck.
“ What a fine day we are going to have! The water
will be nice and warm for my ducklings, and I can
give them a good swim in the pond.”

“It is neither a good morning nor is it going to be
a fine day, and as for swimming in the pond, if I had
to mother a lot of children with as homely feet as
your brood has I would want to keep them in the
water all the time so that no one would see them.”

“What a mean disposition Gray Hen has!” said
Madam Duck to the turkey gobbler as she went on
her way to the pond. “I tried to be agreeable to
her and she insulted me and spoke so unkindly of my
children that I felt quite like crying.”

“ I almost wish that she had been a little more un-
kind,” said the gobbler, “for I have never seen a duck
crying and I imagine it might be an almost amusing

THE OLD GRAY HEN

109

sight. Perhaps Gray Hen needs some of my good
advice, and I will walk over shortly and see her."

But the old gobbler was saved his trouble, for in a
few minutes he saw Gray Hen coming down the path
toward him. As she came up to him he said : “What
a miserable feeling morning this, Mrs. Hen; my
feathers will none of them lie straight, and every
worm that I have tasted for breakfast has been bitter.’ *

“You are quite right,’’ said Gray Hen. “It is
just like all the mornings recently, uncomfortable and
disagreeable, and there does not seem to be any
promise of anything better.”

“You are quite right,” said the gobbler. “What
the gander and the duck see in the present to be so
satisfied with I don’t understand, and as to the future,
I don’t know why we should expect any more of that
than the past.”

“ I have always felt,” said Gray Hen, “that you, Mr.
Gobbler, never got half your deserts in this barn-
yard. Everybody seems to think that the rooster,
because he crows every morning at sunup, is the
wisest bird in the yard, but as for me, I have always
held you in greater esteem and have often spoken
of the nobility of your looks and the regal way in
which you walk about the place. If I had any voice
in the matter I should suggest that you be recognized
as superior to the rooster. But, you see, the hens
have nothing to say, although some day I feel sure
that it will be different.”

no

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

“You are very kind,” said the gobbler, “and I
feel as you do, while I have no wish to be ruler of the
yard, that the hens should have more to say. You
should at least have independence and do as you
like.”

“Oh, I have determined on that already,” said
Gray Hen, and she told him how she had decided to
lay no more eggs and to scratch as little as she had to.

“Well,” said the gobbler, “I must be off and see
that none of those turkey hens get so far into the
wood that they cannot find their way back again.

I certainly gave the kind of advice she wanted,” he.
said, when he had got out of her hearing, “and that
was easier than getting into an argument. And, be-
sides that, discontented people and animals are
always so much more comfortable if they think,
others are just as unhappy as they are.”

Old Gray Hen, however, was as good as her word.
She stopped laying eggs and the amount of gravel
that she scratched was scarcely worth mentioning.
She stole worms from the younger chickens, who were
too polite to punish a hen so old as she was, and,
altogether, she became a general nuisance to all the
rest of the barnyard flock.

They could not protect themselves, but Farmer
Johnson, walking through the yard one day, noticed
that the Old Gray Hen’s toes had grown to a most
unusual length. “I guess she doesn’t do much
scratching,” he said as he passed along, “and I sus-

THE OLD GRAY HEN

in

pect she doesn't lay many eggs. I must ask mother
about it when I get back to the house.”

“No,” said Mother Johnson, when he asked her,
“I haven’t found an egg in Gray Hen’s nest for a
month or more.”

“She won’t pay to winter, then,” said Farmer
Johnson. “We had better eat her.” And the fol-
lowing Sunday, when Farmer Johnson sat down for
dinner, they brought a big platter of steaming fricassee
to the table and that was the end of Old Gray Hen.

A day or two after, when the gobbler happened to
meet Madam Duck, she said: “ I hear that Gray Hen
has left us.”

“Yes,” said the gobbler, “and I hope she is happier
than she was here, but her contentment was greatest
when others were distressed.”

THE WORSTED DOLL

GOOD Mother Munster and her husband Jacob
had five daughters. Of course they loved them
dearly, but they often wished for a son.

“Then he could help me in the shop,” said Jacob,
who was a maker of dolls. “Not that I would ex-
change one of our girls for a boy,” he added, “but
I wish we had a son as well as the five girls.”

Whether the stork heard this talk between Jacob
and his wife and took offense because they questioned
his judgment, or whether he thought Jacob and
his wife had their number of children, I do not
know; but he never called again at their door and
their daughters grew up to womanhood without a
brother.

One day Jacob hurried in from his shop, which was
back of his house. He was very much excited, and

THE WORSTED DOLL

n 3

talked so fast that good Mother Munster could not
understand half he said.

“They want worsted dolls,” he explained at. last,
“two dozen worsted dolls to be sent across the water
in time for Christmas.”

Jacob raised his hands with a gesture of despair,
for at his shop they did not make worsted dolls, and
he could not understand why any one should want
them.

“There is plenty of time to make them,” Mother
Munster said. “The girls and I can knit them, and
we will make half of them girls and half of them boy
dolls.” And so the knitted dolls were begun by good
Mother Munster and her daughters.

One day when Mother Munster was knitting on
the last doll, which was a boy, she began to think
how much she would miss them when they were
finished and sent across the sea.

“ I will make you extra large,” she said as she added
a few stitches to the length and breadth of the doll,
“and if I could I would knit you a tongue so you
could talk‘ and legs that you could run on, and have
you like a live boy.”

Mother Munster knitted as she thought, and
though she did not know it, she knitted all her wishes
into the boy doll’s body, so that when he was finished
he could do all the things she had wished.

But he was a wise little fellow, and did not betray
himself for fear he would not be shipped across the

H4 THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

water with the other dolls, and he wanted to see the
world.

It was a long journey to the other side of the ocean,
and the boy doll thought it never would end. But
by and by he was taken from the big packing-case
and with other dolls placed in a window of a big shop.

“I wish some one would speak to me,” thought
the boy doll, but not a word did the other dolls
utter, and as he did not wish to appear forward he
kept silent also.

One day a lady came into the store and carried
Boy Doll away with her, and then one night he was
put on a tree trimmed with glittering ropes of tinsel.

A little girl came into the room after a while, and
when she saw Boy Doll she exclaimed, “Oh, I hope
the boy doll is for me!”

“So do I,” thought Boy Doll, “for I am sure you
will talk to me.”

And sure enough he was given to the little girl.
“I am so glad you were for me,” she told him, “for
I do need a father for my doll family.”

“Dear me,” thought Boy Doll, “what a respon-
sibility to be forced upon me so suddenly!” And not
a word could he speak in reply to the little girl, be-
cause he was so surprised.

The little girl took him into a large room, which
was the home of her doll family.

“This is your husband, Rosamond,” she said to a
large French doll, “and his name is Theodore. And

THE WORSTED DOLL

115

this is your father,” she told a group of small dolls;
‘‘he has come to live with you.

“I hope you will be a good father to them,” she
said to Theodore. But Boy Doll was so overcome
that his tongue clung to the roof of his mouth and he
was silent.

Theodore, as we may call him now, was placed in a
large arm-chair, and the little girl left him with his
family.

His grand-looking wife held her head very high
and cast a look of disdain at poor Theodore, for she
was not pleased to have a worsted doll for a husband,
and the children, following the example of their
mother, looked at their new father and giggled.

“Oh, why did I leave good Mother Munster?”
thought Theodore. ‘ ‘ She wanted a son and she would
have loved me.”

He sat very still for a while. He was thinking
what he should do; he knew that as the father of a
family he should be respected, and here were his
children laughing at him.

If it were not for the haughty French wife he
might exert his authority, but Theodore was a little
afraid of her.

“I’ll begin with the children,” he said at last, “and
that may impress Rosamond.”

So while the children were giggling and whispering
Theodore suddenly jumped up from his chair.

Of course he was very stiff in his movements, as he

n6

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

did not have any joints, and the children laughed out
and said, “Our father hasn’t any joints in his legs.”

The stem look on Theodore’s face soon quieted
them, however, and by the time he reached them
they were quite afraid. Theodore cleared his throat
and put his hands behind him.

“It is very evident,” he said, “that you need a
father, for your manners are shockingly bad. What
is your name?” he asked, taking one of them by the
shoulder.

“Etta,” she answered.

“And yours?” he said, pointing to another.

“May,” was the reply.

“And yours, and yours, and yours, and yours, and
yours, and yours?” he asked, receiving in turn the
names of Sally, Freda, Maude, Cora, Dora, and Ida.

“I shall divide you into two groups of four each,”
he said, after hearing the names. “One will be the
Etta-May-Sally-Freda group, and the other will be
the Maude-Cora-Dora-Ida group. That will simplify
matters for me, and I can talk to four at one time.
Ettamaysallyfreda,” he called.

“Yes, father,” answered all four at once.

“ If I ever hear you giggle again as you did when I
appeared I shall punish you severely.”

“Yes, sir,” answered the trembling dolls.

“ Maudecoradoraida,” said Theodore, in a stern
voice.

“Yes, father,” answered the second group.

THE WORSTED DOLL

117

“If you behave again in the manner you did when
I first came to this house you will be punished in a
way you will remember.”

“Yes, sir,” answered the four dolls.

Theodore turned away and with all the dignity he
could muster walked toward his wife.

Rosamond’s head was not held so high now, for
her husband’s manner with the children had shown
her that he intended to be master in his home.

“When do we dine?” he asked.

“We have no regular hour,” she answered.

“We will dine at seven,” said Theodore; “break-
fast at eight ; the hour for lunch you may please your-
self about, as I shall not be here. The children will
not dine with us,” he added. ‘ ‘And now I should like
to see my room.”

Rosamond, who was as completely subdued as the
children, very meekly did as she was told, and Theo-
dore found himself master without any further trouble.

But he could not forget good Mother Munster, and
while he knew he should be content in the bosom of
his family, he found his thoughts often with Mother
Munster, across the water.

It was not an easy matter being the father of a
family. If he felt like jumping or lying on the floor,
there were the children, and he must not lose his
dignity for a moment. “I would rather be a son,”
he said, “than be the father of a family. If I could

n8

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

get back to Germany and good Mother Munster I
should be quite happy.”

Of course this was not the proper feeling for a hus-
band and father to have, but you must remember
that Theodore had all this thrust upon him before
he had any of the joys of boyhood.

One day he heard the family where he lived talking
about going abroad, and saw the big trunks being
packed.

‘‘Oh dear,” thought Theodore, ‘‘I wonder if they
will take me with them. Perhaps they will go to
Germany where the good Mother Munster lives.”

And then Theodore thought a very wicked thought.
‘‘I will get into one of the trunks and hide,” he said,
‘‘and if I can find the German village where Mother
Munster lives I will not come back to be the father of
a family, but I will stay with good Mother Munster
and be her little boy.”

Of course that was deserting his family, but Theo-
dore did not know anything about how wrong that
was, and so one day when he was left alone in the
room with the trunks he climbed over the side of
one of them and hid himself between the folds of a
dress, without saying good-by to his wife or children.

Theodore did not feel safe until the men came for
the trunks, and then his heart leaped for joy. After
a long time the trunks were opened in a hotel, and
Theodore wondered what they would say when they
found him.

THE WORSTED DOLL

119

“Here is Theodore,” said the mother to her little
girl, when she found him inside her dresses. “I
wonder how he got in my trunk.”

The little girl had not brought any of her dolls
and she was so pleased to see Theodore that she
hugged him.

Theodore felt guilty when he thought of what he
intended to do, but his love for Mother Munster was
deeper than that for his family.

After many weeks of visiting different places,
Theodore had almost given up hope of seeing Mother
Munster again, when one day he heard them say,
“We will go to Berlin to-morrow.”

4 ‘ Berlin, Berlin, ’ ’ repeated Theodore. ‘ ‘ Where have
I heard that name before? ” Then all at once it came
to him that it was in Germany and that not far from
there was the village where Mother Munster lived.

He could hardly keep from jumping for joy.

One morning after they had been in Berlin for a
week the father of the little girl said, “We are to
visit a little village to-day where they make dolls.”

“I will take Theodore,” said the little girl, “for
I want to get a girl doll just like him.”

They rode quite a distance on the train, and then
in a carriage, and stopped at a house that made
Theodore’s heart thump so loudly that he feared they
would hear it, for the house was the home of good
Mother Munster, and there standing in the doorway
was the dear old lady herself.

120

THE SANDMAN’S HOUR

They went into the kitchen and the little girl put
Theodore on a chest which stood in the room.

In the excitement of seeing the doll-shop she forgot
to take him with her, and as soon as Theodore found
himself alone he slipped off the chest and hid behind it.

When the little girl came back from the shop she had
a large doll in her arms and she quite forgot Theodore.

A few days after, when Mother Munster was clean-
ing her kitchen, she moved the chest, and there was
Theodore with his arms stretched up toward her.

Mother Munster picked him up. “Why, it is my
boy!” she said. “How ever did you get here?” she
asked. Then she thought of the little girl. “I hope
she does not send for you,” she said, and she held
Theodore tightly in her arms.

“So do I,” said Theodore, and although he did not
speak out loud Mother Munster seemed to understand.

“You’d rather live here, hadn’t you?” she asked.
“I will put you on this seat in the corner and you
shall be my little boy. All the girls have gone to
homes of their own, and Jacob and I are very lonely.

“Look, Jacob,” she said as he came in the door,
“here is the worsted doll I made to send across the
water. He has come back to live with us, and so at
last we have a son.”

. Jacob smiled. He didn’t think much of worsted
dolls, but he took Theodore by one hand. “You
have traveled a long distance, son,” he said, “since
you left here, and can tell Mother Munster and me

THE WORSTED DOLL

1 2 1

all about what you have seen as we three sit by the
fire in the long winter evenings.” And so Theodore
found a mother and father and lived a happy and
peaceful life undisturbed by the cares of a family.

But sometimes he dreams and awakens himself by
calling, “Ettamaysallyfreda,” or “ Maudecoradora-
ida.” And 'Mien he makes sure it is only a dream he
turns over and goes to sleep again with a smile of
contentment on his face which plainly says, “Theo-
dore, you are a lucky man.”

THE END

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